Manaslu Circuit No Way Back

MANASLU CIRCUIT 2014

“No Way Back” by

Clive Hogg

© 2014

Manaslu Circuit: No Way Back

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Preface

I can thank my wife Lucy for injecting the so called “trekking bug” into my system. Her endeavors in the last year to vet out a suitable trekking company, challenging route and her sheer determination to succeed in the face of stress and physical hardship have elevated my viewpoint outside of dear old Australia.

Not being shy of a challenge I have had my fair share of home grown expedition adventures. Ski touring for days on end in the midst of severe winters in the Snowy Australian Alps. Trudging through the muddy wilderness of Tasmania. Beating through the scrub of our lower elevation hills and coastline! Even brief forays as work travel has allowed me to visit NZ glaciers or North American Appalachian peaks.

The spirit of capability I can attribute to my mum, the spirit of enquiry through my dad. Dad loved to read on epic struggles of exploration while quietly appreciating the outdoors. Mum’s still at it with camel treks to the Kimberleys, canoeing around Fiji or remote art expeditions to the rugged North West of Australia.

Manaslu is no ordinary trek. While it appears fairly linear in approach with very high but not quite extreme elevation it shall impose its will over you. There are no convenient escape routes, minimal infrastructure and a very long way back if you just don’t quite make it over the pass. The Annapurna region had similar characteristics 10-15 years ago, however has succumbed to development giving you the choice of track or road quite close to feature locations. Manaslu lodgings and food are basic at best, only recently emerging from merely locations for tent and porter expeditions. My stomach and back tells me there is a long way to go to feed and rest the increasing masses attracted to this region. Authentic as the experience is.


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Manaslu retains the element of anxiety and tension critical for a rewarding challenge. You can get snowed in easily, defeating attempts at Larke Pass. Altitude sickness if of course ever present above 3500m. As above, food and lodgings do not always rest you up well for a strong following days trekking.

I had grand ambitions of writing a literary masterpiece on the trek!. I obviously fall short of that lofty goal and no best seller shall this be! I do try however to include sideways observation of myself, our crew, others and the environment, however tunneled my vision gets, closer to the goal and starved of oxygen.

This is not a travel log or broad cultural study of Nepal. It takes a lot more travel that I have available to cover all those bases. It is in essence a first person viewpoint of what it takes to go trekking and what the environment throws at you beginning with a Confucius “Single Step”

I wish to thank the crew for their eager participation in this adventure and look forward to trekking with some again in the near future.

Ram, Guide and Owner/Director at Mountain Ram Adventures

Barry, Porter Nischal

John, Porter Bisnu

Wayne, Porter Dinesh (Dennis)

Pollen, Porter Bidur

Clive, Porter Jam (Yam)


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4/5 April

“The Journey Begins”

All packed and out the door to pick up Laura from Southern Cross Station, en route to Brunettis Lygon street for coffee and cake. Next is a speedy drop off and fond farewells at Tullamarine International Airport, in time for them to zip back home and watch the next installment of Downton Abbey I suspect!

An easy time through check in and customs and able to grab 1 ½ hours of sleep before the flight scheduled at 00:30 hours to Bangkok. At 53 years of age now I feel still super fit with all joints in good order. My training over the last few months has put me in peak condition, however I believe a few extra kilos to burn on the track may have been beneficial considering the boned-out condition of Chris and Lucy on return last year.


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A rest heart rate of 56 is proof of fitness, but this will undoubtedly climb with altitude, a phenomena I am keen to log.

A smooth flight to Bangkok with at least 6 hours good sleep thanks to my years of corporate travel experience. Thai economy in the 777-300 is fine with good reclining and great service. I sat in amongst the Oak Park amateur cricket team on their way to a Thailand tour and Phuket piss up. Actually a nice bunch of chaps, not boozy and good natured. Received a substantial plane breakfast and landed in Bangkok 05:45 am.

Saturday morning and the trek starts now in Bangkok main terminal. Bangkok is a repetitive microcosm of coffee shops, diners, Thai food shops, sweet shops, duty free, and specialty. I walked at least 1-2 km and spied the same stuff 4 times. I eventually arrived at gate set E and firmly believed I was back at the start. In reality it was a distant copy of gates A B C D with minor variations only for the alert.

E2a my gate will likely be full of trekkers and hippies? Let us see..

Near a sweets shop a seemingly 8Yo Egyptian lad lagged behind his seemingly affluent family to try and slip a roll of mentos from the shop stand. With streetwise skill and attention to the shopkeeper and his family, but not me he sidled up to the stand and lifted a pack. My “ahem” and raised eyebrow led him to coyly pop them back and scurry of to his family keeping me in check all the way. They teach them young!

What do you believe the most popular food stand is in a busy international airport? With out a doubt Burger King. Sitting in the intersection of gates D E and F the burger king is always well populated not just with westerners by all nationalities.


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Chinese Thai Middle East North African European Indian South East Asian And of course me and the Anglo Saxon Westerners.

Couldn’t resist a breakfast style omelet platter and a juice.

Right next door the pizza shop is populated with Europeans and Westerners only. I don’t see much action in the donut bar and creamery, but I guess evening may their hot spot. There is a smattering at the fresh fruit and veggie stall. I guess Protein, carbs and fat win in the travelers tummy stakes.

Aside from those major eateries there is the gamut of coffee shops and pubs with plenty of beer being consumed even in these early hours of the day. Perhaps given jet lag my early hours are actually some other travelers evening.

The best coffee shops are obviously those with the softest lounges. An obligatory purchase of a small coffee buys you an hour or so lease of a snoozing couch. The optimum strategy is to dump yourself in a nice corner couch and wait as long as socially acceptable to get your brew. Nursing the beverage can buy you as much as two hours snooze till you feel compelled to release the comfort to the next weary traveler.

Beyond these make-do sleeping spots other coffee shops with a more Spartan atmosphere exist. The busy and productive travelers laptop or tablet and the cold upright edges of these tables act like a strong atomic force binding the two together. Also perhaps the ability to scout out a


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service industry power outlet for added longevity of the pointless task of working while travelling.

En route to the gates look out for big and usually empty sofas surrounded by fake plastic orchids. You can score a really good sleep with one eye open to re check the flight time, wonder whether your I-phone is set to the right alarm time or actually wont go flat. The fear of someone whipping your possessions while asleep is also ever present. But its often worth it.

As I lay in the dapple morning Bangkok light through the plastic orchids I hear a spraying and clipping sound to find a garden attendant carefully watering each plant and trimming off any flowers or buds that are not perfect. They are real after all, just seemed too perfect to be true!


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Finally I board the plane to Kathmandu. No obvious swarms of hippies or trekkers at the gate. It is instructional to however check the footwear of fellow travelers for a clear indication of their bent. I conclude that style is a creation of the idle.

Within spitting distance of my seat 32D I spy incoming travelers feet. A mix of walk hike runner and boots, mismatching socks and all oddities of trekking pants, shorts or lycra. Working further up there is a smattering of old favorite T shirts, basic cotton shirts, polyester breathable north face (fake) tops and bandannas.

The trekkers garb is an assemblage of utilitarian items both old and new which get the job done. Colour and style is secondary to function. The stylish trekker exists only in North face magazines, for the perversely rich and the French. The rest of us just get on with the job !

Finally landing in Kathmandu I am greeted by a loud shout from Barry and Wayne and hustled off in an average looking 4WD to the Thamel district and the Utse Hotel. Kathmandu is an intriguing blend of the old and older. A few modern comforts seem to exist with a stylish European bakery or two and ageing infrastructure punctuated with WiFi.

Nearly every trekking shop abounds with price effective North Fake gear. I did buy a $7 North Fake long sleeved cool max top which actually seemed to suffice the trip except for a few fraying hem lines. My cheap liner gloves from Shonas did start to fall apart but I was confidently advised on my return to the store that a needle and thread would reduce the need for a warranty return! Trekking poles are astonishingly expensive at $4 a pop. I know I can get the same on E-Bay for $2-3! Still crazy pricing.

At the Utse I am greeted warmly and offered a deluxe room for $35 per night. Hot water abounds after you wait 5 minutes for it to get to you


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from the extensive solar roof heaters. Taking the so called boiled and filtered water from the urn in the hall I dutifully applied a 90 second hit of the UV Steri-Pen and a chlorine pill to be sure of my stomachs integrity moving forward. During the trek I always pilled and nuked the water, sometimes double and at upper reaches used the sub micron ceramic MSR filter to boot!

I believe the witchcraft of the UV pen actually saved me from any tummy trouble, as did with my wife Lucy and son Chris last year. The strict protocol of only letting purified water past my lips paid off with a clockwork constitution. Some members of the group using just chlorine or drops had several bouts of the runs, requiring at least one round of antibiotic medication. Keeping food inside of me for a reasonable time certainly increased my metabolic efficiency and even though I lost 4-5 kg on the trek I never ran out of energy.

I estimate that 4000 plus calories of exertion each day is difficult to replenish even with three square meals per day.

Many trekkers dilemma is the constant battle of feeding and very regularly visiting the loo, coupled with the inherent dehydration this pays a toll on the ability to smell the roses (more likely donkey and yak poo) on the trail and trek comfortably.

During the afternoon we all gathered at Rams office for a briefing and get to know session. The narrow and winding streets in Thamel quickly became second nature for navigation. Landmarks like a key bakery or “that funny intersection with the witches hats” were the best way to find your bearings. Street names were sometimes findable but only as a last resort. The best street names were those blazed on shop owners advertising signage.


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A simple meal at the Gaia and a beer or two with Barry, Wayne and John and I was off to bed to consider my important final pack for the Trek. The others had a few more days to shop and prepare than me, so their advice of where to go and what to find was an invaluable heads up.


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6 April

“Power Bars and Load Shedding”

The efficiency of life is grounded in the roots of our civilization. Way back when hunter gatherers made life and death decisions of what to eat, what to carry and how far to the next oasis or stream. The respite of a successful journey gave them time to take stock, barter for goods and capture more game.

In a more contemporary epoch the spread of civilization garnered support via trade routes and outposts offering supplement for travelers meager rations. Their necessary pilgrimage or venture is somewhat analogous to our penchant for trekking. Yes the almighty dollar can buy you the equivalent of an uber escalator come mega travellator in the form of porters and mechanical transport.

All the sights of the world are available from an armchair via video or almost in an armchair via plane, train, automobile or even helicopter. That would land you firmly in the camp of an ultimate consumer. Unwilling to expend precious calories other than those needed to operate the shutter on your camera or touch screen of your MP3 player.

Capturing those almost weightless and ethereal electrons in digital format to transport back to your loved ones requires some more effort than that. The importance of managing electrons will become apparent later in this chapter.

Being a fully self-sufficient walker or ski tourer over my years I can’t face the imposition of loading up a porter with items not absolutely necessary to my welfare. Anything I needed for enjoyment, sustenance and immediate comfort for any given day was my responsibility to carry.


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I want to be part of the experience to the best of my abilities. My balance of sustenance and weight carried needed review in my hotel room before I set off, hence power bars and load shedding.

If you want the tastiest and widest selection of power bars, nuts dried fruit and chocolate in Kathmandu, simply visit your local store at home. The Nepalese selections on offer were just shy or ordinary and overpriced. Even though I wish to support local trade my experience left me a little flat and without appetite by day 12 and 4400m.

Luckily I had bought 4 vacuum packed salami sticks of 250grams apiece in Melbourne and three good sizes dark chocolate bars. Some lovely soft dried mango and ginger from Bangkok airport also helped. In the Thamel district I found at least one smaller grocery shop which had a fair selection of affordable nuts and local dried fruits. This combined with several packets of Mountain men granola bars gave me the chance to plan ahead.

Spread out on my bed were 15 zip lock packs which each received a fair portion of all snacks. I guesstimate each days snacking contained 100+ grams of protein and about 600 calories of energy. This gave me a daily grab bag from my porters load to keep me fuelled above and beyond what I can only describe as average at best food in the upper reaches of the circuit.

To maintain electrolytes enough hydrolyte tabs were brought along to ensure I didn’t fade out with exertion. This proved a key factor in dealing with some of the hotter longer days at lower altitude when 6 litres consumption of fluids was not uncommon.

Next the load shedding. Another couple of hours spreading my kit over the hotel room floor and bed and lots of chin rubbing solved the puzzle. I found that I was actually only a garment or two away from my


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original list. My day pack now kitted with the essential of food and clothing for any given day. By given day I intended an evening if team separation occurred which came up to around 8-10 kg. My porters pack was at sub 20kg inclusive of 5kg snacks which would evaporate by treks end.

Harping back to those pesky ethereal electrons I have to harness them also. Their duty is to faithfully record my experience, sterilize my water, provide me with light and some form of entertainment during my downtime.

Our demand for re-useable power sources and the multiplicity of devices we have to manage has driven us to a reliance of power as much as warmth and food during a trek.

Naturally the complexity of technology has me bringing a “tech bag” with all required adapters, leads and batteries:

Mini USB Micro USB

Sony PSP USB I-phone USB

3 pin Canon camera battery charger Euro/3 pin adapter with USB port

2 pin USB adapter Feeding the arsenal of

Sony PSP E Reader Steri-Pen

LED Head Torch Canon Powershot

I-phone Solar Battery/backup


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The only way to manage this trekking is to bring a multi way power bar (not the edible kind), however the power supply in Kathmandu is flakey at best. Each area has its schedule of approximate load shedding which may occur at most inconvenient times.

To my chagrin but equal delight when the lights blazed on at midnight in the hotel room. I knew I was on a charging warpath. Plugging whatever I could into the one available socket near my head I begun to capture electrons by the gazillion.

For the next several hours I put up with an over bright blue led telltale on the charger (gaffer tape too far away) next to my eye line. Each time I stirred I checked power levels and accordingly swapped out batteries and devices until morning when the power abruptly finished. They were captured and firmly ensconced in my devices for the treks beginning!

My ongoing challenge was to figure out the availability of power and sunlight in the remoteness of the trekking wilderness.

As an aside this story is not unique It was shared almost action for action with many of my fellow trekkers.

My Sunday was spent getting to know the rest of the group and Ram the Guide. Choosing meals wisely I trusted my digestion would remain stable so I could commence trekking in comfort.

Thamel in Kathmandu was buzzing with trekkers eagerly stocking up on North Fake, food and kit for their trek starts early in the week. On my return I noticed that during the week the numbers of heavily tattooed, pierced, stoned and Rasta haired hippies increased substantially. With the trekkers away the hippies will play.


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It reminded me of Chris Bonnigton’s opening lines in the 1975 “Everest the Hard Way”. “Now the monsoons have finished Kathmandu gives way from hippies to mountaineers” In reality the mountaineers looked somewhat hippie themselves with lanky figures and long beards, much like me in the late 70’s and early 80’s !

Me in the high plains 1981


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7 April

“Kathmandu to Sotikhola”

Yes! Got my wakeup call at 4:30 am from the kind staff at the Utse for my trek start. Unfortunately this was for the Swiss team off to Annapurna, leaving me several hours of restless sleep before my scheduled 6:30 wakeup for our trek. At least I got some final power charging maximization in.

Final packing and a hearty breakfast saw us on our merry way at 7AM. Into the Mahindra Scorpio 7 seater we were packed with gear all on top. Nice to see such a modern SUV with all of one airbag for the driver and seatbelts at least for the rest, but rarely used by locals. Had to fish around for the first hour to finally strap myself into the centre rear. Playing “catch the windscreen” was always on my mind.

Kathmandu was still brewing under several days of smog and temperature inversion as we were just departing winter. Kathmandu seems to have the effect of spewing out its filthy air from its modest 1300m height into the surrounding lowlands. The result is hundreds of km of hazy skies, captured to the north by the Himalayas. The only thing to clear the air is the occasional wind or monsoonal downpours.

We were treated to the typical Asian carefree attitude of driving, headlong into the oncoming truck just to complete our overtaking maneuver with microseconds to spare.

Sealed roads were narrow and pot holed and swathes of hillside roads were constantly under slow manual construction. What would normally take 2 hours for a Western road system was going to be a 7 hour slog.


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Onward ho with ever deteriorating roads and one scheduled coffee stop at a passable roadside café. We push into elevated rice paddy areas, gaining a few thousand feet but never escaping the haze and brewing heat.

Stopping at Jyamire for a Dhal Bhat we met the porters in their rickety old bus en route to our location at Arughat or Soitkhola. Nischal was glad to see me after spending a wonderful time with my Lucy and Chris the previous year.

Left to right Wayne, Clive, John, Barry, Pollen

A quick snap of the team shows us as budding tourists yet to become trekkers.

Descending into broad valleys we crossed a major river on the way to Arughat through fertile flood plains. Here the roads deteriorated further becoming only passable in the dry. I recall that Lucy and Chris from 2013 had to walk at some point before Arughat due to bogging.


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We make it to the edge of Arughat to find a crude bamboo barred checkpoint and a grumpy village elder negotiating with a bus load of other trekkers.

We find that the Elder has substantial interest in his local hotels and aims to impede trekkers en route to Soti Khola and gain some ever diminishing business. This is the nature of a shrinking Himalayas. As roadways improve and penetrate deeper into the hills the winners are those with a need for material transport like farmers and vendors. The traditional tea house chains fall by the wayside as our inane ambition is to get close to our goal via transport.

We finally agree that it’s useless to argue the point for through travel in our SUV and commit to walk the few km through town and negotiate a local bus to Soti Khola before the night sets in. No Arughat hotel for us.

On the other side of town we snaffled a mid-sized 4WD bus to take us the rest of the way. Picking up a nice couple from Isle of Man gratis we set off on a white knuckled fun filled experience. My first introduction, but not last, into primitive mountain roads in Nepal reminded me of a Discovery Channel style “Death Road Truckers”. We dodged numerous goats, donkey trains, other buses and a huge backhoe steadily widening the road for greater commerce.

Road embankments were simply wire meshed cages of rocks backfilled with whatever chiseling debris existed after the backhoes efforts. Obviously not world standard but built by seemingly empirical levels of trial and probable failure over many years.

Most sections of the road were a series of agonizing bumps and crunches. We were blesses with largely dry conditions but the haze was thickening overhead, trickling sweat down our heads in the airless cabin. We rarely


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opened windows as the reflected sooty diesel exhaust off the road edge filled the cabin easily.

Arriving at Sotikhola at with the onset of a terrific local thunderstorm we hustled into the only lodge in town for a quick cold shower, our poo on the last western toilet for 2 weeks and a cup of tea with dinner of fried rice.

I get to meet the crew proper and note some initial characteristics:

Barry, A confident and accomplished trekker, keen to score another high pass and make yet more videos for his trekking blog/channel.

Pollen, Nursing a stubbed toe from a power shedding and blackout incident climbing stairs at Kathmandu. Has trekked before and is quiet and confident of success

Wayne, coming up to speed on the enormity of what he has taken on board with cousin Barry’s encouragement. Generally a flat lander this will be a challenge.

John, An old salt, nursing a dodgy knee, seems to have the wiry strength to accomplish anything.

Ram, Where’s the Dhal Bhat?

We discussed our motivation and intentions for the final goal of Larke Pass 5160m. I shared my intention to swap a hefty chunk of Mount Bogong 1986m in Victoria Australia with a piece of Larke Pass and handed the specimen round for fun. I also shared my intentions to place a portion of my Dad’s ashes on the pass as a challenge and respect to his enjoyment of reading on expeditions and adventure during his 83 years.


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A cool breeze now all have gone to bed I write up Ram’s bedtime stories!

Remember the scout leader telling the little cubbies his favorite story? “and so they hear a terrible scream and never saw him again!” Off to bed little cubbies sleep well!

Ram’s experience in Kathmandu was way more eerie. In discussing keeping your valuables secure and locking your lodge door he relayed a supernatural event.

While staying over with his friend several years ago in Kathmandu he awoke from his slumber to the apparition of a pair of pants floating across the room completely unaided. By the time he knew what was happening and alerted his friend his mate’s pants plus phone and wallet has been lifted clean across the room by a long bamboo pole!


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That night we paid special attention to our belongings. Pollen even went to the extent of stuffing a pillow into a breeze block opening to stop would be thieves. I do admit I stowed my gear clear away from windows too and put my wallet in my sleeping bag.

My first night on the trail clearly showed me the variation in environment I was up for. Initial nights were temperate to warm. Sweating it out in and even on my 30 year old but recently re-jigged -10C bag was a far cry from the expected snow and ice of the Himalayas. I would have to roast my bum for many days yet before its capabilities could be appreciated.


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8 April

“Sotikhola to Machhakhola”

A hearty breakfast and we were off at 7:50 AM on our first actual walking day. We expected about 7-8 hours walking and the weather was warming up.

Leaving all facets of vehicular road aside we quickly encountered the first of a series of cliff side paths. The contraflow was a series of donkey trains which forced you either to sit a difficult section out till they had all passed or in our case cower cliff side until they critters brushed their way past. A quick negotiation in Nepalese with our guide and the train master ensured no further donkeys were coming for the short term.

We were lucky the donkeys were un laden on their return trip otherwise the precious little room left for man and beast on the path would be oversubscribed making passing most difficult.


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The cliff side paths presented a challenge for us in the dry. Keeping to the “tourist side” maintained our safety. In the wet the cliffs are treacherous as borne out during my wife’s trek last year where fatalities occurred in more than one other group. In some sections the chiseled rock angles precariously to the outer making wet footholds a possible one way trip over the edge.

The donkeys were a cute and ever present feature of the trek, even to the extent that my camera detected their faces giving them a scientific assurance of character! The only way in and out for goods is either beast or man with the rare exception of helicopter for special large and valuable items such as power transformers and hydro components.

Lunch at 12 pm with a shady outlook at a nice guest house with the temperature pushing 31C made us a little sleepy. We pushed on for a few more hours after 1:30pm to Machhakhola.

During the afternoon we encountered a few dandy suspension bridges. The old wooden bridges are being slowly but surely replaced with government and community funded projects. These new strong steel modular constructs are of course carried up by beast or man; hence development is slow but unending.


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On the way we progressed down to the river flats finding a number of shanty villages made for fair weather seasons only. At least we got a reasonably cold bottle of Pepsi at just 40 RU. The coolness and sugar rush gave me energy for the last leg into town.


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Arriving at Machhakhola we are put up in reasonable lodgings with cold showers, but at a sunny afternoons naturally warm temperature. Day one we shared our highlights

Pollen, walking the cliffs

Barry, having people to photograph and film for a change

Wayne, walking the cliffs

Me, being amongst the donkeys and rural environment

Ram, Dahl Bhat

The development in town was substantial compared to villages that we would encounter in days to come. Semi Concrete construction use of reinforcing bar and even glass for windows. Never the less I was beginning to see a pattern in trekking village architecture.


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“Trekking Village Architecture”

Most of the lodge and tea house architecture encountered in this region is an extension of age old building practices with a few mod cons like windows and lockable doors in places. The upper reaches have a tried and proven design of heavy beams, impeccably aligned dry stone work, either slate roofs or newer corrugated steel.

While we visited the wind was not strong, however a telltale that serious gusts do rush up and down the valleys are the rough arrangement of heavy stones on iron roofs.

Unlike the developed west there doesn’t appear to be a screw in sight. Everything is nailed making obvious building practices we take for granted like roof purlins, battens and tech screws secondary. Weight and rope often make up for this lack.

Where concrete is utilized there is an ever present air of building optimism in Nepal. Whenever a story is constructed there are copious amounts of reo bar poking out at angles suggesting future development. The extension of a family sometime, another story on the lodge for trekkers, a verandah or balustrade.

At Sotikhola our stairs to the upper level bathroom had convenient reo bars poking out to accommodate the balustrade, one day. For now they are cunningly arranged to impale you on your midnight rush to the loo in the wet. More frightening than Ram’s bedtime stories.


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Our lodge at Machhakhola thankfully had a spike less arrangement of stairs to upper levels with a new twist. Almost reminiscent of a set of Eshers endless stairways and with a surprise 2” step at the top this was no gravity less puzzle. A wrong’un or slip late at night would end you up with a chopper ride back to Kathmandu at a pinch.

Ghapsaya offered cleverly constructed upper levels with steep basic rungs which literally pulled out in your hand if you were reckless in ascending.

Doorway height and step size seem to follow the Nepal biometric average. We all got our fair share of clunked heads and bashed shins navigating through oddly positioned openings to bathrooms or halls. Both myself and Pollen whacked our heads repeatedly in our rooms at Bessisahar at the treks end.

Step size and glassy frozen slate at the Yak Hotel Samdo threatened me with certain peril as we had 8” of snow overnight. My wife’s concerns


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about the very place from 2013 allowed me enough caution to get to the loo at 5 am with impunity.

Luckily chimneys in the simple form of the “whole room” had given way to proper flues in recent times making the acquisition of precious oxygen at altitude that little bit easier.

Don’t ask about Dharamasala. Just a difficult gradient of mud and Yak poo immediately out of the stone adobe cabin was the gauntlet to run on route to the sloshy floored dining hall. Snow flurries also settled through the uncapped galvanized roof to settle in a pretty white line on our sleeping bags.

The combination of toilet, wash room and loo paper bucket with an ill placed tap or simply a permanent running hose were a staple. If you were lucky a few rough nails would be in place to hold some gear, however most of us simply lined up in our jocks with a simple towel and bar of soap to minimize mucky clothes. Only if the weather was warm enough at


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lower altitude. Usually the loo paper bucket was also sopping wet building the imagination for a disease incubator while you wash.

Typically the squat loos were ill placed, either at a deftly slight angle threatening to slip you over on the wet porcelain or annoyingly close to a wall, deeming our Anglo biometrics to a contortion to maintain balance.


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9 April

“Machhakhola to Jagat in the Heat”

That flipping dog barking incessantly all night makes for a broken sleep. Par for the course in a traditional Nepalese village I suspect.

Up at 6:00 sharp to beat the heat we pack up, get some breakfast and clean our teeth with clean water of course. An average banana pancake and bowl of porridge fills my stomach for more hot uphill trekking.

Pollen challenged me to 10 pushups only to snap my photo rather than participate. Sucked in. Fetched a 200RU pair of flip flops since I knew we would have a few days of warm feet drying weather.

The trek day’s start was filled with trains of donkeys carrying valuable loads up the trail. We met Nina and Peter from Denmark which was a talking point for John being from the other Denmark, Western Australia! Others met were Ennio and Alex from Hamburg Germany. They were heading off at a pace so I didn’t expect to meet them again. Francoi, Brigitte, Sophia and Hans from Montreal were on the way to Tsum Valley.

The rise up to Jagat became fairly steep and on the sunny side of the track early on. The heat and gradient obviated the need for hydration and extra food. Reaching hot springs at Kharlabashi we take a break for tea and a wash. At this point Pollens attraction to whole packets of Milo is revealed, she must have a hundred sachets for the trek!


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A load of Brits, Scotts and an Aussie arrive with a ton of porters in tow for a camping expedition through the pass. The cost is always higher and the resources brought in by the porters reduce the business received by the tea houses and restaurants. Also flexibility is reduced with all parties needing to be at end locations together, Like a Roman army if you fall behind you may be put to the sword and choppered out.

Getting up to 30C and on towards lunch at Dobhan the western face of the valley forced at least 3 litres from my pores. I Made sure I used some hydrolyte to avoid a washout. The valley really starts to narrow near Dobhan but a suspension bridge crossing puts me in the shade for the remainder of the section. A light breeze also tempered my sweating.

Keeping up with Jam all the way to lunch I grab a fried rice and egg with a cup of tea and a load more water. The rest arrive within the hour and slump down also for lunch and a well-earned break.


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After lunch Barry and Ram made an executive decision to stay the night and save our energy for the cooler mornings. This meant we were half a day behind our original schedule; however as would prove later this was a blessing to create a more uniform altitude gain through AMS territory. After 1500m we expect the heat to reduce and make walking much more comfortable. Adiabatic winds do however push up the valley on most afternoons so a quiet siesta was had by all in preparation for dinner and a good night sleep.

I spied a cute doggy at the village which reminded me very much of Sophie (not the girl from Montreal) my loyal kelpie cross back home. The elevation at Dobhan is just over 1000m with ridges surrounding us in the 2500m to 3500m mark. I note the word ridges as they have almost no names attached, even though they are 1000m plus higher than our tallest peak in Australia at 2270m, Mt Kosciusko.

Our crew got busy charging up their gear with solar and backup while Barry and Wayne studied the map. Understanding the regional contour


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map is not easy without a frame of reference. Walking distances are measured in hours never km. Contours are so large that a blink can land you 300m or 1000’ off target.

This village is simple with kids being kids, dogs barking and a man building a large table for the lodge out of hand planed wood beams and planks, simple joints and rough nails. Basic furniture that will likely last a century.

My water was still easy enough to gather looking clear from nearby mountain streams piped to villages via extraordinary lengths of poly pipe strewn on the ground. I still used a pill and nuked it with the Steri-Pen every time to ensure my health.


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During the afternoon local porters were struggling with large rolled sheets of corrugated steel up the trail. Each one seemed to burst at the effort, including some women. The man beast capability for awkward loads seemed to rest firmly with our two legged kin. Smaller and heavy goods were mostly loaded onto donkeys.

Over the days we eclipsed their pace, indicating that a 10-20 day journey was expected for these materials out of Araghat or Sotikhola to upper villages.


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10 April

“Dobhan to Philim (1000m to 1570m) Epic Day.”

That flipping dog barking incessantly all night makes for a broken sleep. Par for the course in a traditional Nepalese village I suspect. I awoke suddenly to a strange feeling of De-Ja-Vu.

The usual cooked breakfast was not forthcoming due to manning issues in the kitchen. A boiled egg, Chapatti and Jam was all I had to get the day rolling. We leave fairly late at 8 AM.

Gaining elevation quickly past a series of water falls we emerged in a wide valley surrounded by huge vertical cliffs with an almost Shangri-La feel. A nice cup of tea and a couple of boiled eggs with salt at Shayaule Bhati put us in good stead for a brisk walk up the valley towards Jagat.

On the way I notice the ever increasing lawn of Indian Hemp. But not being a hippie I didn’t feel the need to gather any of the crop for an afternoon of oblivion. I had trekking to do.

The roughhewn cliffs provided much needed shade from the clear and warm day. The track was level and predictable, now losing much of the large boulders of earlier and replaced with gravels.


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Jagat is the transition into the real Himalayas. A pretty village hewn out of the rock of the valley side it is blessed with loads of good slate making fantastic walking paths to and through town.

I saw laborers pedantically hammering away at slabs of slate, listening for the ping, ping, ping, thunk as a layer of slate gives way. These slabs are manually hauled to the required location with the same head band used for almost any carrying activity. I saw a slightly built lady lugging a slab up the track to Philim. Almost “dear while you are out fetching the milk and a pack of fags, grab a huge hunk of slate for the kitchen”


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The kids are becoming cheekier with one spying my poles at the lunch break and casually playing with them, further and still further from our table, till one of the porters strikes up in Nepalese to him, where he gives up on the slow motion pilfering and scampers off.

The toxic charity of the west is also taking its toll on politeness. So fun is the story of simple pleasures in seeing a poverty stricken child enjoy a simple balloon, that’s it’s imprinted in their very fabric.

“Namaste!”

“Namaste. Balloon”

“Namaste. Bon Bon”

“Namaste. Chocolate (always well pronounced)”

“Namaste. Money”

Just………”Money”

Eventual leg grabbing exercise at Samogan !


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At Jagat I almost invested 400RU on a dented can of mangoes. In retrospect it would have been a good move to keep fibre and low GI sugars up.

The following leg to Philim was somewhat brutal. A head down bum up exercise I was determined to get there fast. Something I could afford to do at lower altitudes. At porter pace I trucked into Philim around 4pm. The final climb up to the village from a huge suspension bridge was a challenge and a half.

The royal gardens hotel was a nice enough venue but with a trashy loo and a bucket wash in the same loo. Luckily there was enough warmth in the air not to worry about a cold drenching.

A hearty dinner and sporadic WiFi enabled me to get a brief message back home via Rams phone. I penned the hardest words to ask “I trust all is well”. Not knowing if I had a blown hot water service, the dishwasher


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was on the blink, the foxtel was not recording or perhaps a plague of mice in the ceiling. Don’t joke these have all happened to me on travel. I am a travel trouble magnet of the highest order.

Philim is a pleasant town with fields of maize, potato and millet. And an orderly plan. Being further up the valley there isn’t the constant river noise to distract your rest and mornings are dry being above the dew line.

Brigitte of the Montreal gang was nursing a badly bruised foot from a completely random single rock fall on the track that day. Talk about lottery winnings (loosing’s). Her foot looked like a donkey had stomped on it. Nothing broken but the team would have to look after her for a few days at least on the way to the Tsum.


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Ennio and Alex were staying a night even though I thought they were clear ahead of us. Tummy trouble. Still with a cheery smile they looked like they were going to get on top and make the pass.

A long night’s sleep was probably due to the lack of dogs, or just being buggered by the effort of the day. We may never know.


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11 April

“Philim to Deng (1570m to 1860m)”

B-RU-TAL 5 hour stint with no real morning or lunch break past Ekle Bhatti

At least the breakfast at Philim was filling. Just getting into a routine with John on a large apple porridge, loads of sugar, 2 tbsp jam and 2 boiled eggs laced with salt. Oh an a cuppa or two. Also got a message back from home, “all is well” was the major response which unleashed my tensions and made my day. Thanks Lucy!

We quickly pushed past the Ekle Bhatti up the the confluence of two rivers separating the Tsum and Budhi Gandanki. The Tsum valley trek took a rapid ascent up the right side of the valley where we saw struggling dots of porters making their way up crazier cliff routes than we had encountered so far. Good Luck Francoia and team.


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On the hot side of the valley we ground out countless hours of hill climb also past a dingy tea room to a minor village with a lodge for a cuppa. The remainder of the session saw us teased with many false corners, pinches and dives pretending to be the last before Deng, till we arrived midafternoon. The weather now becoming noticeably cooler wasn’t going to allow for a cold shower.

BONUS! A 200RU hot shower was available with instant gas heating. We all dutifully lined up and paid our way to a refreshing clean up and shave. After that and a reasonable whack of fairly OK to ordinary Dhal Bhat I went for a stroll past town to the prayer wheels. There were just enough for my whole family, me and my two doggies, Sophie and Bella.

The accommodation at Deng looked great on the outside however suffered from a boxy prison style assemblage of concrete and stone with minimal windows. If they had served the Dhal Bhat in my room I could well imaging myself being “banged up abroad” captive material.


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I do recall in my preface the term “average food”. My experience with food on the trek was that you needed to want to eat, over and above the drabness of some of the fare.

Dhal Bhat is a variable dish being mainly lightly spiced potato on the side of a serving of plain rice and a lentil or soy or whatever basic staple existed soupy stew. It never has the pizzazz for me to overcome a natural decline in appetite with altitude. I toyed with spring rolls which were OK to variable, a terrible pizza at Loh. Believe me I couldn’t give it away.


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My saving grace was the magnificent compact Miso Soups I brought along. They were tastier than any bowl of soup I got on the way. When I ran out of one brand after the pass I tried what I believed to be an equivalent quality brand sourced also in Melbourne to almost throw it up. My bad for not checking all that I brought before hand. In the bin for those.

In the main I relied on a substantial porridge breakfast with 2 boiled eggs, my snacks and whatever rice style dish I could partially consume. The two or three plus sugars in every tea made a difference but I am now still paying for an over sweetened tooth by not enjoying plain tea for over two weeks now.

Our team was in good spirits having dealt with a cooler afternoons trekking and a cleanup. Lucy and Chris stayed here the year before, and if I was forewarned I could have retrieved the sun hat left behind by her!


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12 April

Deng to Ghapsya (1860m to 2170m)

There’s more than one Ghap, Gap or Ghapsya. It is more a collection of small villages in one small area. Our end point was Chapsya next to the modest regional school buildings in a pretty valley area.

This was going to be another short day with one of our members still suffering a re-run of the runs.

The terrain after Deng begins to take on an almost North American feel with high granite cliffs and mountain buttresses. Taller groves of pine and rhododendron and fresh mountain streams told your mind you may not be in the Himalayas.


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Often on treks you find similarities with familiar locales elsewhere, giving you a reference to work with but often taking you for a moment away from where you are actually. You could be easily mistaken for believing you were in Yellowstone or the Sierras.

The humidity was building again all day with uplift producing some menacing clouds in the region.

As trade and technology improves in the area the centuries old methods of processing grain are slowly falling by the wayside. Water driven mills are falling into disrepair. At a couple of remote locations we did still see manual grain milling still in action.


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The day wore on with more interesting older suspension bridges and plenty of ups and downs over gorge sections. John and I got to the first of the Gap area tea rooms as rain was threatening and managed to get a nice cuppa in and some snacks for the final jaunt to Ghapsya.

It is interesting to see the local monks travelling through the area. They always have some trappings of modern society such as good quality glasses or a MP3 playing mobile phone rattling their favorite traditional folk songs.

Store keepers are obliged to supply them with basis sustenance. In our case a long neck bottle of Ghorka beer was handed over with a smile to this quiet Monk!

As the rest of our team arrived for a short break John and I with the lead porters headed off to scout out the best accommodation options in the area.


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We managed upon Ghapsya early afternoon in time for a late lunch. John and I immediately set about washing the reminder of our clothes in the now rapidly cooling water sources. A quick clothes wash and about 10 minutes re warming my aching cold hands saw the rest of the team arrive and lunch ordered quick smart.

The Dhal Bhat at this location was actually very tasty! I took a bet on the spring rolls and rice pudding for dinner later but unfortunately was let down a tad. Still edible but not to the lunchtime chefs glorious standard.

The afternoon was spent largely enjoying a sleeping back with the rain pouring down outside. Several favorite MP3 albums, half a block of dark rum and raisin chocolate and the rest of my snack food probably contributed to spoiling my dinner.


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A short walk with Barry before tea did however raise my appetite a little.

We discussed acclimatization strategy now being above 2000m. Barry was concerned that my and probably John’s bullet out of gun walking style would get me into trouble at higher levels. “Acting stupid” was the term I believe he used.

“Stupid is as stupid does” also well explained in the movie Forrest Gump. I wasn’t about to let my intelligence, fitness and enthusiasm get in the way of a proper plan. Good actions and solid outcomes were key.

I did explain that my legs just go that fast naturally and I would make a special effort to abate my speed for proper acclimatization once we reached a point higher than Australia. My rest pulse was just past 60bpm indicating oxygen was becoming a rarer commodity.


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Some strategies I will explain later but they did the trick in getting me up and over virtually symptom free.

Up in the distance from the hotel I spied distant monasteries at least 600m higher than our location. The use of my 1200mm zoom lens showed them up clearly from dots on the hillside. I believe they are disused Gumba, identified as Kwak.


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13 April

“Ghapsya through Namrung to Loh (2170m to 3170m)”

This would be a test day rising through 3000m in one huge effort. We had ourselves a hearty breakfast of porridge and eggs and I provisioned plenty of pure water for the days trek. Talking about water my Steri-Pen was becoming a local attraction with the porters and other trekkers.

Even though they have been around for a decade they are still not widely known. Basically I was the local witch doctor of water. Even Wayne requested a zap or two in his bottle during the trek to ensure his water supply was up to scratch..

Shortly after setting off we noted one of the British campers coming back down the mountain trail, probably from Namrung. He didn’t look much like trekking material, John and I noticed him from yesterday with all


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packs offloaded to guides and porters. I trust he improves to re-join the trek or can manage a walk out for the next 5 days.

The full story of his condition was revealed many days later when I caught up with the Brits and had a good chat.

The track to Namrung had two options the older Lord of the Rings Forest style track or the newer cut but higher trail. Our porters set off on the older track, much to Ram’s concern about falling rocks from overhead. But it was too late to recall them from ahead.

The track is not bad in the dry; however slippery roots and rocks in the wet could be a challenge and mishap waiting to occur.

I began to employ a simple and rewarding tactic to keep my eager legs at bay. Going at boiled lolly pace as I call it I metered my walking by only going as fast as nose breathing would allow. Sucking a boiled lolly forced the issue and also drip fed me glucose over time. I found that my fitness


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clear sinuses matched this strategy to a tee. If I ended up panting then I would be at risk of climbing too fast and incurring AMS. The added benefit is that you humidify your air intake and get less thirsty without developing a sore throat in the drying mountain air.

Morning tea at Namrung was pleasant and I spent some time commencing my juggling ball training of Nischal. I trust he is still trying to master the art after I gave them to him at the treks end.

Namrung is well built and was the initial target of our previous days trekking.


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Another hour or two further up the trail saw us reach Lihi for Lunch. An emerging style of village placement on moderate ridges Lihi affords the residents with a great view and stable ground for crops and livestock.


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Lunch was quite a fuss. We quickly ordered our dhal bhat or fried rice and tea and settled into the small dining room with some other trekkers. Ennio and Alex from Hamburg had regained strength and were up alongside our venture day for day now.

An hour and a half passed before we noticed the cook had wandered up to the local Monastery to visit the regional Lama. Keen to get fed we sent a runner up to fetch the cook and cut short the religious fervor in favour of our tea. Finally over two hours late we got out and on the way to Loh.

I guess we ought to consider running on Nepal time rather than our hasty western schedule.

One victim of AMS was my trusty Corning branded pen lifted from my work. The fluouro marker at the end hemorrhaged severely and the ink became thick in the cold. I noticed that NASA’s solution for making pens work in all conditions including space was to use a pencil! I should


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have brought one. I did later in the trek advise marketing back home but they rejected my claim and put it down to operator error!

Walked into Loh for a good room at the impressive hotel Tasidale at 3170m. No problems at all with muscle tone, altitude or stamina. This was the highest I had ever been eclipsing my Mount Kosciusko by 900m in one day.

Barry expressed a concern that we may be pushing too far in one day. Frankly I believe we did well and Wayne’s recovery was legendary. Moving from 2000m to 3000m approximately was a better move than the original schedule of 2500m to 3500m. I think working up to the 3000m level then less per day after that was in line with better acclimatization.

At this rate we were only one day behind schedule. OK considering I allowed three days at the treks end for sightseeing or to be soaked up with


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contingencies. Keeping a trekking team together with all participants allowing some flexibility is a far better way to go.

I suspect the Brits camping team let the dweeby guy loose and we won’t see him again.

The hotel offered a good spread of fare and a comfy dining room with multiple levels! Had a good chat to Dave the metro fireman and his girlfriend Camilla. Being a fire volunteer myself we had a starting point to our conversation. I called them Pacman and Ladybug as they had spent many hours decorating their pack covers for the trip.

We will see their faces later after a momentous effort over the pass.

3000m is the yak zone! Simple as that. We were expecting first views of Manalsu but haze kept that from us for another day.


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14 April

“Loh to Samogan (3170m to 3670m)”

After a dissatisfying pizza at the hotel the previous night I was keen to stoke up on food and ordered porridge, pancake and eggs. My rest pulse was now around the 70 mark on waking. Oh and the dogs were in full flight with a symphony of woofing from our hotel dog and a bunch of yappers across the way. Joy oh joy.

A public holiday was also in full flight during the morning with plenty of ceremonial fires and chants around the town from shaman style locals. April 14 Navabarsha is a non-religious Nepalese New Year or the first day of Bikram Sambat calendar.

Leaving Loh you sacrifice 200m straight away to navigate a new valley. The pine forest is extraordinarily peaceful with a widening valley floor the


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stream on our left became a more intimate and less intimidating part of our journey.


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Wayne discovered his hotel key in his pocket a ways up the path! Trust they found their way back somehow.

Up at 3505m we encountered the village Shyala devoid of trees due to deforestation and recent fires. The town offers some reasonable lodges which seem underutilized at this time of year.

Constant work was in progress by stone layers and local women smashing up rocks for gravel infill. I trust the trekkers will use this location during the busier months. It has potential and magnificent views.

A cuppa and a snack sees us off again on the last trawl to Sama or Samogan. Place names are but an approximation from map to sign or even the interpretation of guides and locals. The prayer wheel structure into Sama is awesome. Hundreds of wheels make for a great photo essay or video strolling past.


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Our original lodge was overbooked so we had to settle for the second best in town which actually was not half bad. It presented WiFi, power for charging, reasonable food, super soft beds and a cute Pomeranian doggy.

The vista of Manaslu was hidden by low cloud so I still had no idea of its beauty. After a fair dinner, some clothes washing but no bathing I stepped outside into the moonlight to see a magnificent sight of a perfectly clear sky, stars and Manaslu overhead! Calling the others out we were awestruck by the horizons transformation.

The WiFi is only 400RU unlimited for us trekkers. Since it was a public holiday the power was also on as a bonus for 24 hours! Seeing the light bulbs in the dining hall commence a dull red glow up to half reasonable strength in 20 minutes indicates the approximate nature of transmission standards here. At least it was on.


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The owner pays only $50 USD per month for Satellite WiFi and must gain ten times that on sales from eager trekkers. Cool business model.


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15 April

“Importantly My Daughter Laura’s 21st Birthday” The clear night persisted till morning to greet us all with magnificent views of Manaslu and surrounding peaks. This is the splendor that Lucy and Chris experienced all the way from Loh in late 2013. To actually see a clear path from where we were to the 8th highest mountain in the world connected me unlike any other mountain I have scaled.

I hurriedly snapped a few I-phone shots and sent them off to Laura for a birthday treat. Unfortunately in my haste I chose the most awful bleary eyed pose, giving the false impression that I was already in severe AMS! A quick refresh of the photos put that fear to rest. The shots I sent back that morning were awesome but nothing to compare to the OMG shots of our exploits to Manaslu Base Camp.


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We understood the active base camp had been moved up from the 4400m level but were unsure of the height or exact location. Loading up on a good breakfast and ensuring that my daypack was loaded for any emergency was to set me up for a day hike of a lifetime. Many trekkers were also preparing for an altitude excursion to 4000m plus. It was to be a busy day on the trail. A brisk stroll up past the first chorten north of the village led us to a moraine laden stream adjacent to a magnificent glacier lake Birandra Tal. The valley up to base camp was gentle passing a Yak laden area commonly used in the warmer months for tending Yaks by shepherds. An array of basic abodes, still sporting winter snow inside was explored.

Interesting to see a lone porter sporting a large propane gas cylinder with his trusty dog in loyal attendance. He gets $30 USD a pop for taking


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the cylinders up to base camp, the dog goes for free. His ability far eclipsed our trekking track fitness and he left us for dead that day.

The forest environment was rapidly changing with altitude from the pines of the valley edge to what appeared to be spruce or beech. To our left the glacial lake was rapidly becoming just minor part of a grander vista. The glacier feeding the lake was constantly dropping room sized chunks over high rock ledges and into the valley. Huge piles of pulverized ice formed cones like salt just at the lakes edge. Our elevation was likely well over 4000m by this stage and all were pacing well. A short morning tea break from our packs and we progressed further into a treeless slope. The next zone reminded me somewhat of our own treeless upper slopes in the Australian Alps. The only difference being that there was another 4000m of snowcapped mountains above!


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By this stage our entourage had thinned down to just Ram, me and Barry. The porters with less packed gear had turned back as did Wayne, John and Pollen. We were upon the snow line now and made initial quick work of some large drift traverses. The base having softened by the strong sunlight was reminiscent of our spring snow in Australia.

The final ascent through fairly deep snow was Barry and my last. We made a pact to stop dead at the next rise if Ram intended to press on. To Ram it looked somewhat like a mutiny in progress. But we had reached our limit of excursion for the day. My altimeter showed somewhere in the region of 4700m to 4800m so we were 1100m well clear of Samogan. The Gas bottle and dog man was already well over the top and probably enjoying a cuppa at base camp before returning. A couple of other trekkers were in the vicinity, stopping at the base of the last snow ascent, one sportier fellow virtually jogged past us.


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A short ridge greeted us with only a few hundred horizontal metres to Manaslu upper camp. At that time a load of porters came tromping along the ridge complete with tatty plastic sheets to immediately toboggan down hundreds of metres of snow slope back to the valley. Absolutely mad! We gathered ourselves as a team for pictures and videos and high fives all round. “Stupid is as Stupid Does Barry and I ain’t stupid” I said. We agreed that the proper acclimatization strategy works and grinned at our success. We declined the jaunt to the tents at base camp as the ridge was sharpish and required we transfer to crampons. Our time was technically up as we had spent over 5 hours getting to this point. I shared plentiful water and nuts with Ram as his supplies had stopped progress with Pollen’s return. Not the optimum strategy for such and ascent but we had supplies to share and the weather was still fine.


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Actually being on a substantial part of the 8th highest mountain in the world is an amazing experience. It is humbling to think that our greatest endeavors are just the starting point for true mountaineers. The trip down the hill was vastly quicker. After my food loading of porridge, 2 eggs, a snickers, nuts, some lollies, chocolate and hydrolyte I was keen to get back before I faded. I did manage a few glissade runs with good control down a few snow drifts and stretched the legs for a 2:15 descent. Immediately on returning I dumped myself in a plastic chair in the waning sun to reflect on my accomplishment and get some food into me. After a short while the enormity of the effort sank in and I had a good short blubbering cry of joy. Barry and Ram arrived an hour later also buoyed by the experience.


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Rams headache had worsened due to partial dehydration, so plenty of tea and a couple of Ibuprofen were called for. I had no concerns about AMS during this day, except for one instance where my left hand began to tingle. I immediately feared AMS till I discovered that my left pole strap was too tight on my carpal tunnel! I get this regularly mountain or dirt biking. Boiled lolly pace just didn’t cut it for this level of ascent, however I resisted the urge to push hard to a panting level and was still able to carry a conversation while walking, This is about 6 on the Talk Test scale. If you can’t converse then slow down, is the rule. On sending the newer photos on the WiFi I received a resounding OMG from Lucy back home. She couldn’t believe the huge glacier lake and Samogan were but postage stamp spots in the photos. Reviewing my snack resources I decided I had one Hungarian white salami in excess. This became a welcome received gift to Ennio and Alex!


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16 April

“Samogan to Samdo (3670m to 3805m)” Overnight we seemed to get a smattering of snow in the region. Our days trek started well with a leisurely stroll up the wide valley. We quickly came upon shallow drifts of recent and new snow. Our fear was that the overnight snow may return and block our path up the pass like it had done to many trekkers in earlier weeks.

A load more donkey trains added to the day’s entertainment. I imagine they would travel through snow on occasion but wondered if Larke pass would be suitable for them as it was in 2013 during Lucy’s trek. The final run up to Samdo was largely snow free indicating the weather predominated in the lower valleys. Arriving at the Yak hotel I was given a room under a slate roof with bowing beams and props threatening to collapse on me overnight.


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A fried rice lunch of sorts and plenty of the days snack food saw me and a number of our porters and my German friends off for an excursion to the mid 4000’s. Snow was just holding off in our upper reaches but menacing down the valley.

After the previous days mammoth effort the legs weren’t so willing to participate but I needed the altitude covered to acclimatize best. Initially an unremarkable trip our porters Nischal and I believe Dinesh only 100m ahead came scurrying back down the hill highly agitated. As it transpired Nischal had come across a Snow Leopard by only 10 metres!


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The snow leopard equally got out of the scene pronto. This was observed at distance by Ennio and Alex’s guide. Overall a remarkable encounter with destiny for Nischal and Denis, The memory will stay with them forever. The afternoon was spent talking to new trekkers. It is timely I reflect on the people I had the good and mixed fortune to meet.


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“Trekking Buddies” Ido and Adi from Israel. These two chaps were part of a group of 4 recently released national service recruits. Many Israeli young adults in their position travel and trek widely. Some hammer the Annapurna region as a personal quest for glory. These guys had toured around Vietnam and now were aiming to do a trek for enjoyment. One thing they were expert at was espresso coffee from a basic pot and small gas burner. Nice as the coffee was the dining hall owner took offence that they weren’t buying his instant coffee! They had directly walked up to Samdo without rest days or excursions. A risk for AMS but they showed no signs at present. Ennio and Alex Hamburg Germany. A lovely couple with Ennio currently holidaying between jobs. It was great to see them progress well and enjoy some heights and views. They have ambition to travel to Australia one day. I suggested they start with Tasmania from their love of trekking. They urban clutter of Hamburg didn’t compare with the wide spaces offered in this region. They truly enjoy the outdoors. Dave and Camilla Sydney Australia. Dave’s a champion. A very respectful young man with always a good word for others. Being a permanent fireman he was able to share some experiences recently with his support for fires in Victoria during summer. I being a volunteer fireman enjoyed the banter. He and Camilla were aiming to complete Manaslu and move on to Annapurna for yet more trekking. Bill and Veronique from New Mexico. Bill and Veronique both live at altitude in New Mexico in a small straw bale adobe. A peculiar couple she makes and teaches didgeridoo from bamboo. Veronique was very arty and intense and they were only going as far as Samdo, then back down the trail.


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Matt and Sara SW London. Two commercial lawyers they had completed the Tsum. A chatty pair with a keen wit and an eye for exploring the world. They also had an amazing ability as lawyers to spot errors in things such as bills. At Dharamasala they keenly pointed out over 20RU of errors in their dinner and paid accordingly. Fab folks! You’d certainly want them on your side when 20 cents is at stake. Honestly I’m surprised they survived the night with that sort of petty malarkey. Ingrid and Antonio Spain also were enjoying the lodgings and looking forward to Larke pass in a couple of days. Our ever present Brits, always camping just over the way were doing fine. Cathy from Birmingham, Phil, Dave and Betty and another Cathy surprisingly from Canberra relayed the progress of what I now call Dweeby guy. I never got to know his name proper but the news was that they were bitterly disappointed with his fortitude since he choppered himself out from Ghap. This given just tummy upset and only 4 or 5 days walk out. Dweeb is the word they used. I shared the descent to Bhimtang with them after Larke pass on the 18th with some good conversation and restful breaks. My health was still good but gorging appetite starting to wane. Continuous nibbling through the day still input the energy I needed to enjoy the upper reaches of the trek. My Miso soups, chocolate and salami certainly eclipsed they local fare. Rest pulse was ticking over at 75 at this altitude but no symptoms of periodic breathing or nausea. It began snowing heavily late afternoon and was beginning to settle.


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17 April

“Samdo to Dharamasala (3805m to 4450m)” 5 AM and still snowing! I was beginning to get worried that the pass may close. Also terrified of going to the loo down insubstantial steps and angled slate in the snow and ice. At 6:30 we arise and gingerly poke our heads out to see heavy snow falling down towards Samogan but perfectly clear skies and new snow fall up the valley. A fantastic relief.

The local water supply was now frozen solid. Thanks that I had filled up completely the evening before. The potentially dodgy water here and at Samogan prompted me to use the MSR ceramic filter, two pills and a double zap of the Steri-Pen. Call me paranoid but I’m still kicking.


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Our team was in good spirits with the beckoning sun up the valley. A rest the previous afternoon for some had rebuilt strength along with some steady eating and hydration. We set off around 8 am in the shade of the ranges on the Tibetan side. Rugged up we were just now feeling the real cold of a snowy day at altitude. Gaiters on the boots were a must to keep our feet and socks dry. The days trek to Dharamasala was expected to be around 4 hours gaining 400m of altitude up to 4450m. On setting out we were greeted by a number of donkeys and yaks dusting off the overnight snow and foraging for some greenery under the soft white blanket. A few marmots also popped their heads out of burrows, scampering across the snow and keeping a watchful eye on the humans.


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The grind to Dharamasala is unrelenting. Even though it is a gradual rise the altitude makes you pay for every step. As the sun burst through


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we quickly warmed up as did the snow which melted fast and swelled side streams for tricky potentially wet footed crossings. Dharamasala is no holiday camp. It has been developed slowly over recent years from a purely camping location to having some basic stone and mud rendered rooms and a dank dining hall. Minor streams encompass the site either side with a dubious choice of which water is less contaminated by yak and human poo. The toilet being only recently built and now completely clogged is a no go zone. Much work is needed. It is highly recommended that you boil all water. I was lucky enough to gather fresh water from a snow melt stream on the way.

I purposefully did not take many photos of Dharamasala, focusing instead on the glorious Syacha glacier and sunshine on the way up. To the left near Dharamasala are the outlines of old trading market buildings from a bye gone time.


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With no teahouses between, the last 500m to the outpost was murderous. The huge excursions on previous days added to the pain. Ram managed to negotiate a couple of three bunk rooms with a leaky tin roof, rough dirt floor and basic beds with annoyingly minor slopes. I shouldn’t complain greatly as other trekkers enjoyed semi permanent marquee tents with an ultra level floor made of water. And roofs slumping under recent snow fall. After gathering our energy and securing our packs for the next day we made for the dank dining hall for some afternoon tea / dinner and an early night at 7pm. I managed some spring rolls, tea and limited snack food. Ram dutifully checked our progress with altitude as he had done on recent days above 3000m. None of us had any significant symptoms of AMS. Rather a mix of some water retention for one (½ a Diamox to fix), sinus snuffle, minor headaches and lowering appetite. Barry and John took a short walk up the trail to keep the metabolism ticking along. I declined rather to save all my energy for the Larke pass the next day. Rest pulse was pushing 75 to 80. Our porters were doing a sterling job of providing dinner service for just about all other trekkers. Hats off to Nischal and team. Other trekkers had similar ideas, taking as much warm fluid and some food in to get a decent sleep. We were scheduling a 2:30 am rise with a basic breakfast and departure by 4:00 am at the latest. By the time we got back to our room a neat line of spindrift was across our sleeping bag feet. Assuming it may snow some more this was put up with expecting the gap in the roof to self-seal and enclose us in with some insulation. We reverse packed so all that was needed in the morning was to stuff our sleeping back, emerge from our sleep fully clothed, eat breakfast and go.


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I finally enjoyed a warm sleep rather than a roasting in my fabulous sleeping bag, given it was hovering around zero in the room all night.


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18 April Good Friday

“Dharamasala to Bimtang via Larke Pass (4450m-5160m-3550m)”

It better be a good Friday because we have got a pass to conquer. Waking periodically at 12, 1 and 2 am expecting rise time to come we finally gave up waiting and got up sometime after 2 to get ready. There was about 2 cm of new snow only and the temperature was probably -5C. Not extremely cold and the sky was clear promising a sunny day. I expected my hydration hose to freeze promptly outside and ensured I kept a litre in my sleeping bag. Tucking it into my down jacket in the pack should do the job. Porridge and 2 eggs and tea, then off. The plan for the team was to trek at the pace of our slowest member to ensure we made the pass generally together. We had gotten this far as a team so no reason to alienate individuals with a rush to the top. I somewhat scuttled this plan for about 15 minutes at the beginning. A big sorry to all. Assuming our slowest member and another had already gone up from the camp I set off with one of our porters for a few hundred metres till I realized I was mistaken. Rather than to go back and loose height and warmth I slowed my pace and let torch processions of other go by until I realized I needed to go back a distance. It was 15 minutes later that our team caught up, quite worried as to my welfare. They had been calling in the night expecting me to have fallen down a ravine or such. All’s well that end well. Although several trekkers during the day enquired if I was the missing party.


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Proceeding up at our limiting pace was difficult as I wasn’t generating enough internal heat. I almost decided to break free for my own comfort until the morning light broke and promised a warmer ascent from then on. The views on sunrise were astounding. A clear light illuminated the Larke peaks with the moon balancing on top like a marble.

My hydration hose did freeze immediately, however the crotch warmed water bottle with hydrolyte, some lollies and chocolate hit the spot when needed. Larke pass is annoying long and tempts you with many finales. All you can do is doggedly keep plodding up and up knowing its going to take 4 hours or more. About 2 hours into the climb we passed a stone emergency shelter at 4800m. Even though I was a little hungry I couldn’t wolf down snacks, rather nibble and wash down with water. Never the less my legs were keen to go.


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Ram was busy making the best of his I-phone for a You Tube adventure, which actually played out very well.


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A decision near the last km of the rise up the pass to split at one’s own pace allowed me and Pollen to stretch out a bit. I considered Lucy and Chris’s determination last year in average weather and low on food. Well done guys I understood firmly how you felt.

The last stretch to the pass I ran as my own race. Mixed emotions of anticipation of success, team goals, separation from the family and my somber but respectful task of interning part of my dad’s ashes ran through me. While it’s not an Everest we are scaling this is still a significant achievement beyond the reach of many. On reaching the wide pass and looking back at our progress for the morning a massive sigh of achievement was simply swallowed up by the magnificent vista. The surrounding Larke peaks and a clear view to Tibet and across into the western part of Nepal impressed even Ram, a veteran of trekking.


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A potentially useless and silly action of swapping a nice chunk of Mount Bogong (all of 1986m) with Larke pass actually created a stir with


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other trekkers keen to “touch” Australia and wondering why they didn’t think of it themselves!

Now for the hard part! We had a good 1600m descent ahead of us with no real lunch. Probably 1400m of the descent would be snow bound so the $25 Ebay crampons better work well. The initial part of the descent is casual, where it suddenly traverses a steep slope and plummets eventually down a rocky ridge line.


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The massive glacier and remnant moraine down towards Bimtang appears level at great height but shows no sign of flattening out when you get down further. The quads were going to take a beating, especially with the crampons working well to stop me slipping. Pacman and Lady Bug were having an awful time of it without crampons, as did the porters for the Brits. I was given an account of them tumbling down the hill and losing all sorts of items like a 4 ring circus. I resolved to gift the crampons to Jam at the end of the trip. Passing some Frenchies I caught up to the Brits for a friendly walk to Bimtang. To my surprise Dennis was some way up the trail to offer hot tea and sugar from a large thermos. Go Dennis. I did learn unfortunately that two of the Israeli team suffered probable AMS and had to review their attempt at the pass. I trust they can find a way forward to marvel at the vista like we did.


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Bimtang offers especially good accommodation and reasonable food. The construction style on this side of the pass is becoming westernized, leaving the labor intensive stonework behind. The problem for trekkers is that they are so buggered from the 10+ hours over the pass they don’t have the energy to enjoy it much. Early evening saw most trekkers in a partial zombie state, just getting enough energy into themselves for a 12 hour solid stint in the sleeping bag. On arriving I felt some warmth of the sun and resolved to get a quick wash in. By the time I have unpacked and has a 5 minute snooze in the bag, 2 hours had elapsed. The weather now overcast and threatening snow again put paid to that lofty idea. Being physically drained my bag was actually a comfort not an oven for the second time only this trek.


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Pacman and Lady Bug (David and Camilla) the next day, now magically engaged, from his bent knee on the pass made every ones morning. Go you legends!


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19 April

“Bimtang to Tilje (3550m to 2100m)” It snowed lightly overnight, nothing serious. I managed to regain some appetite and put down a hearty bowl of porridge and 2 eggs plus the ubiquitous tea and loads of sugar. We set off at a brisk pace, pleased with our major accomplishment. All were pleased with the purchase of crampons, however Pollens were a little light weight and Johns strap separated at one point forcing him onto one crampon and one slippy foot. Not too bad a combo as he found, giving him added flexibility for sliding when required. We quickly encountered the confluence of two massive glacial remains, now rivers. The Ponkar and Kechakyu khola. While still on the remnants of the Saloudanda glacier we were presented with a series of sharply defined ridges carved out of the mountains as if a spoon had been used.


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Rudimentary bridge crossings were navigated, luckily with minimal water flow. In contrast to the east side of the Larke the environment was considerably wetter, leading to mossy pine forests and rich rhododendron blossoms. On the way we were treated to many quiet dells with goats and donkeys. At one point we came across new spring kids struggling to survive.


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We reached Kharche on only a few hours for a light lunch break. Many of us may have been happy to stop there and recover still further from our epic Good Friday. Pressing on past Goa with threatening rain we reached Tilje. Tilje is an older village where we were treated to an old but robust tea house and hot water! We had lost over 3000m of height from the previous days lunch and now were firmly in the lower reaches of the Himalayas again. Interesting to note that we consider low as still around the top of Australia.


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It poured solid at Tilje for about three hours, however we were happy to be washed, fed thanks to the cooking skills of our porters and in a non-stinky sleeping bag for a change. Tomorrow was to be our last day on the trek. Having started as tourists I believe we connected well and became a cohesive team of trekkers by this point. A little thinner, slightly more sunburnt, very very fit and proud of our individual achievements. This was our second night only where we were entirely alone as a team. Very few dogs again that night, or was it the tiredness creeping up again?


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20 April

“My 29th Anniversary! Tilje to Dharapani” A beautifully short walk today to Dharapani through farm land and brick fenced paths. More of a reflective day, knowing the journeys end was near for some. Gathering at the final suspension bridge we were interviewed by Ram for his video. The transcript follows.

Barry; “Excellent! Right from the beginning, minus the bus trip the hiking was just phenomenal. Coming over the pass, actually two hours before we got to the pass the scenery was just breathtaking. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I would make me want to go back again. All in all it was great, fine job Ram” Clive; “One thing I have realized with this trip is that unlike other circuits this is a circuit with no way back! It adds to the excitement, we got to Samogan, Samdo and Dharamasala and the anxiety built up. Just having the exhilaration of making the top in perfect weather and everything that went with it was fantastic. An amazing trip, thank you.”

John; “I really enjoyed it I enjoyed being really close to the snow capped mountains. I found the pass to be really difficult but I enjoyed it. A great achievement.”


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Wayne; “Its been probably the biggest challenge of my life. Excellent, I’m tired but its do able.” Pollen; “It has been amazing. Definitely and unforgettable trip”

Ram; “ A final talk with my team.. They have enjoyed it. I think I have done a good job”


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Finally in Dharapani with telecommunications back online I call my wife with a gift for our anniversary. I’m alive! We recounted Lucy’s past experiences and vowed to share detailed notes on my return. This was the time for our group to separate. Nischal, Barry, John, Wayne and their porters were heading off to Annapurna to try Thurong La and some other elevated sights. I gave Nischal my juggling balls and fake Ferrari sunglasses.

The rest of us tumbled into a twin cab troop carrier jeep for a white knuckle experience down to Besisahar. Hanging on for dear life we managed 5 hours of bumps and grinds and bashed noggins. The only thing keeping us alive and on the right side of 500m cliffs was the 16Yo drivers sheer will to live!


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Participating in industry and technology, even in the form of a truck ride to from and within hell, was slowly weaning me back to the 21st century. The clincher being a sprite and I-phone!


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During the journey several locals hopped on and off, even on the roof as and apparently free taxi service. Even though the roads are shite they still provide materials transport advantages for farming and emerging industry. The Himalayas are indeed shrinking with this region of the trek talking 3 to 4 days walking, now a “leisurely” drive. After lunch the remainder of the drive was less rocky, however the terror level was sustained through vastly increased speed. All of a sudden we depart the rocky road onto generally smooth asphalt. Besisahar here we are. Dusting off just about everything we settle for a hot shower and good night rest.


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21 April

“Back to Kathmandu”

Did I mention the barking dogs yet? So typical of a tea house, hotel, village or small town In fact anywhere below 4000 metres. Up in time for a pretty ordinary breakfast and a 6 hour drive back to Kathmandu. During our time away summer has crept a little closer. The overall heat had increased and the smog still lingers in the lowlands between Kathmandu and the Himalayas. Most of us are either listening to MP3 music or reviewing photos now electrons are a freely available asset again. Wending our way through various road works and those ever heroic overtaking moves we finally re adjust to the ever present confusion and smog of Kathmandu and Thamel back to the door of the UTSE. A warm reception from the lovely UTSE manager keen to learn of my adventures, get some photos on their face book page and I get a suite on the 4th floor. It appears that I am being set up for a monumental ascent and possible AMS just going to bed!

Give me a break!

Documents

Manaslu Circuit No Way Back