Even though we’d talked about getting up around 7 Kavee knocked on my door around 6:20 - Get up! The sunrise - it’s beautiful! And so I left the comfort of my thick blankets into the frigid morning, everything covered in a fresh layer of snow, and all the mountains around, looming in front of us incredibly large: the Annapurna Massif, Machipacchure, Dhaulagiri and all of its subpeaks, Nilgiri. It was incredible. The soft light illuminating the forest, lighting up the twinkling crystals of snow on the ground. The air was frigid but when something is so awe-inspiring it is easy to forget the cold, and as the sun rose at the high altitude it rapidly warmed the air.
Annapurna South from Mohare Danda
We had tea and apple pancakes with jam for breakfast, and shortly after set off into the snow, following the ridge line, and heading down. Kavee talks about mantras and chanting. We practice a yogic jogging series that he does in the mornings and was a really nice flow and start to the morning. The clouds move back and forth revealing different parts of the mountains in between.
Me with lemon tea and Dhaulagiri in the background at Mohare Danda community lodge.
As we descend we go again through incredible rhododendron forest. Kavee says they are his favorite trees. The more I tread through them I can understand why that is. They are majestic with warm toned peeling bark, thick trunks that twist this way and that, the large massive ones collecting mosses and lichens that make them soft and huggable. The filtered light comes through and illuminates the forest floor that is an orange ochre highlighted with pink petals freshly fallen from the overstory.
Small temple in the middle of the rhododendron forest.
There is a tiny temple unexpectedly in the middle of this forest and next to a lush stream. We sit and meditate here for some time. It is a peaceful place, one of those places you can tuck away in the back of your mind and return to when you are in the midst of chaos and need a moment of quiet and clarity.
As we continue the clouds close in and soon it starts raining. We pass through Dhankharka, which means the place of flowers; it is a tiny village opening in the center of rhododendron forests all around. It must be stunningly beautiful in just a couple of weeks when the flowers peak.
Lunch is in another small village that is along a road we come to. The house is very simple, one room with a small kitchen towards the back. There are a couple women on a bench on the opposite site of the room. They eye me almost suspiciously. There are two men drinking homemade rum and chain smoking cigarettes on the side of the room where we are seated. The only thing I can understand is “Corona” and “American”. People keep looking at me. About half of them are wearing masks. The talk, even in this remote place, is all focused on the pandemic.
The only thing I can understand is “Corona” and “American”. People keep looking at me. About half of them are wearing masks. The talk, even in this remote place, is all focused on the pandemic.
We continue down the hill, the temperature grows warmer, there is some sort of species of tree with willow-like catkins, and a tall, erect stature. Down, down, to the river below, and cross on a suspension bridge. We take a right off the main trail, following the river upstream.
Coming to an overhang and shallow cave, we stop. Kavee tells me this is a place like where we would camp if we decide to camp out for any of the side trips we might do. Building a fire, using the shelter from the cave as protection from the elements. He’s brought a tent, but it is mostly for me.. he says that when he goes out on his own he leaves a lot of things up to the offerings of nature. While I’m pretty good at roughing it, but most of my backcountry experience is from the park service and not as a devotional yogi, and this sounds like a little more being left to chance than what I’m used to. However, caves seem comfortable, and I figure that if anything we attempt becomes too uncomfortable, I can always request to go back.
Next to the cave is a junction of two rivers. In Hindu culture where rivers merge is considered to be holy; we sit to practice trataka, a type of gazing meditation, on the river for a while.
One of the two rivers at the junction.
Continuing upward, the forest becomes very wet, and terraced and organized, transitioning gradually to farmland; and then there are a few houses, and buffalo. Kavee had talked about wanting to get up high, above the town; partially because he preferred to be in the forest, but a little bit because he didn’t want to draw any attention bringing a foreigner through the town. We end up at the Candle Inn, on the upper end of Swanta.
We are the only guests at the hotel. My room looks out downvalley and towards the town. Dhaulagiri is visible but not until the morning; the clouds are low-hanging grey and don’t permit much view. Gathering in the dining area downstairs, where a fire was built, we start the daily check ins on the internet.
Some stone buildings near our hotel.
Nepal is locking down. - The man building the fire tells Kavee, who relays it to me. Starting 6am the following morning. I find the news in English on my phone, learning details: all transportation is to be stopped, no flights in or out of the country, stay at home orders are in place. California had already been locked down for several days, and several states in the US and many countries across the world were doing the same, with different levels of restrictions, but all with the same messages: stay where you are, stay at home. But it was happening so quickly - overnight things were to be closed.
Here I was in the Himalayas. It felt a little surreal to be in such a magical, incredible place while the world starts toppling. The stock market is crashing, the economy is falling out, freedoms are being stripped from the people left and right, all the catalyst of some invisible virus that strikes viciously and randomly when it does, and leaves the rest of the world frozen in fear that they could be next. And for now, I am nestled in the biggest mountains, in the smallest villages, one amongst the land. I was free for these moments, outside of the system, while the uncertainties mounted around.
Dhaulagiri and some of its subpeaks, as seen from Swanta