NEPAL
Sarah Hewitt takes a deep dive into Nepal old and new, on a popular Himalayan trek
MOPEDS weave at high speed amongst taxis, cows amble oblivious through the throng, and everywhere there is smog and people clearing their throats. A realisation dawns: I’m not sure I’m prepared for this.
Booking a trip to the Nepalese Himalayas had seemed like a great idea a few months ago, cosy by the pub fire with pint in hand. Charlotte had been to Nepal before and seemed so confident, but for me it was a step into a new world, a new continent. My senses were being assaulted from every direction.
DUMPLINGS AND BEER
Based in Kathmandu’s Thamel district for a few days, we combined eating momos (Tibetan dumplings) and drinking local beer with making plans. With recommendations for a trekking company in hand, we decided on the Manaslu Circuit Trek in the shadow of the eighth highest mountain in the world – plus an additional five days in the Tsum Valley. We then sorted out a guide for the hike.
Life is very much lived on the streets in Nepal, something that made me interrogate my ethics as a photographer. We visited the biggest Hindu temple in the world, Pashupatinath, where we were swept into the crowds observing a funeral. In complete contrast to the closed world of death in the West, here the body is laid out visible to all, as the family walk round and round in reverence and respect, laying flowers and kissing the feet as the final act of love. I took a few shots, but it felt inappropriate. I soon put the camera away.
A few days later we left the chaos of Kathmandu, boarding a brightly painted bus with incense burning on the dashboard. The journey was not for the faint-hearted, but aside from a wheel leaving the road occasionally, we arrived mostly unscathed at our trailhead, Machakola, ten hours later. It would take more than several cups of ginger tea to recover our nerves that evening,but sadly that’s all we had. The next morning, we woke to blue skies with mountains framing the view, and prayer flags, faded and frayed, fluttering in a cold breeze. The trail began gently enough but grew narrower, looser and steeper as it wound up the valley. A river ran blue and clear below, criss-crossed by simple suspension bridges, wire mesh sides softened by more prayer flags.
It was just as it’s supposed to be... and yet Nepal is changing quickly. A few days later, as we left Jagat, we needed to pick our way over boulders and cables strewn across the path. A construction team were rock blasting to extend the Jeep track all the way round Manaslu. It’s a plan that will change the face of the valley irrevocably.
THE PATH TO TIBET
At Deng, we diverted into the remote Tsum Valley, which only sees around 300 visitors each year, and which had a very different feel to the main circu
