Himalayas
Thorung La la land!
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THORUNG PHEDI, Nepal — My high-altitude Colorado lungs are no match for the mighty Himalayas.
I never knew I’d miss oxygen so much. I’m panting like a dog with every pathetic step I take.
This, coupled with the fact that I haven’t eaten due to a stomach bug, is making life difficult.
Skip sees that I’m destroyed and offers to take my bag. I should take his offer, but I wave him off: “I’m fine, man, couldn’t be better.” Confused thinking is one of the symptoms of AMS, acute mountain syndrome. Maybe I’m confused, but I’m probably just being stubborn.
We reach Manang at the end of a hard day. It looks like a Star Wars village, with rows of dust-colored huts tucked in the brown hills.
Our plan is to stay two nights to acclimatize; my body desperately needs to make more red blood cells to process the lack of oxygen in the air. I’m exhausted and jump into my icy bed at 3 p.m. I lie there shivering, dreaming of warm beaches in Thailand.
I awake with my first inkling of an appetite in two days. No more daal bhat. I go for macaroni with yak cheese instead.
Today’s itinerary includes a hike to 14,000 feet to Praken Gompa to visit the 93-year-old lama. The mission is twofold: to get my body used to higher altitude and to receive a good-luck blessing at the monastery.
After two miles of steep switchbacks, we arrive at a stupa covered with colorful prayer flags flapping around in the chilly wind. In every direction are huge snow-covered peaks towering over the valley.
I’m standing at 14,000 feet and have never felt so small in my life.
Behind the stupa is a small hut built into the mountain. I quietly tap on a rickety wooden door and call out, “Namaste.” A little old woman in red robes appears and waves me into a small room where the lama is waiting.
I kneel in front of his warm, smiling face, and he begins the ritual. He slaps my head a few times with some sort of holy book and ties a small string around my neck. He’s barely audible, but I make out a faint, “Good luck, Thorung La.” Thorung La is the 17,769-foot pass that we’ll be crossing in two days.
He smiles and points at a pan filled with money. Nothing is free in Nepal.
I’m not a religious person, but the warm energy in this little cave fills me with joy.
The next day, I’m feeling much stronger, and we easily cruise the 15K to base camp.
It’s freezing, and we’ll be sleeping at 14,600 feet, slightly higher than the summit of Longs Peak. The sun retreats behind the mountains early, and we escape to our beds to stay warm.
I awake some hours later to go to the bathroom and am rewarded with the most beautiful stars I’ve ever seen. I feel like I’m in a planetarium, and the snow-covered peaks are glowing under the full moon.
The long hike to the pass begins in the dark. My lips are frozen, and I can’t seem to make coherent sentences come out of my mouth as I talk with Skip. I’m waddling around like a drunken penguin as I slowly make my way up the steep switchbacks.
At 17,000 feet, the breathing gets spastic. I hyperventilate and have to rest, but the power of the mountains motivates me to keep on waddling up. After what seems like all day, I can finally see a swath of prayer flags in the distance. We’re here!
I give Skip a frozen-finger high five, and we dance around like maniacs.
Heading out on Trek
NGADI, Nepal — The sun is setting in the humid sub-tropical valley as a bead of sweat rolls down my face.
My back is sore, but the amazing view in front of my eyes takes my mind off all physical pain. I yell out to Skip as if I’ve just seen a tyrannosaurus: “Do you see that?”
We both stand in awe as we gaze at one of many 26,000-foot goliaths in the distance. The fading light of the sun is creating a pinkish tone on its snow-covered summit. I feel like I’m walking through a postcard, the kind that you see at stores and think have been Photoshopped because it’s too perfect.
The Annapurna Circuit is said to be one of the best treks in the world, for its physical beauty but also for its access to once-hidden and mysterious worlds. Foreigners have only been tromping around these hills since the late 1970s.
When I was here 10 years ago, I remarked that it was like walking through a National Geographic magazine, full of exotic people and intimidating mountains.
The actual trek is pretty cushy; I won’t be losing any toes to frostbite or eating boring, dried food. They call it a “Teahouse Trek,” which means that there are loads of simple guest houses where trekkers can eat and sleep. I’ve packed minimal clothing, a couple of warm jackets for high altitude (18,000 feet) and lots of camera batteries.
The adventure is not in roughing it, but in experiencing all that this ancient trade route has to offer.
Our first night we stay in Ngadi, a tiny village at the floor of a valley. It’s surprisingly cold in the tropics when the sun disappears, and I break out my fleece to stay warm.
The “ama” of the guest house invites me into the kitchen to warm my hands by the fire. It’s cozy, and she puts me to work stirring a pot of rice. I order daal bhat for dinner — rice and lentils. It’s what the Nepalese eat for every meal, and I’m trying to fit in.
Over the next few days we go from 2,000 feet elevation to about 12,000 feet. Everything is changing, and not just my labored breathing as I chug up the hills.
The green jungles are now replaced with pine forests, and the villages begin to look more Tibetan — small, whitewashed cottages covered in prayer flags. My favorite thing to do when I arrive in a new town is to spin all the prayer wheels for good luck, sometimes hundreds in a row. People just smile as I run down the line, spinning all the wheels.
I’m overwhelmed with the outpouring of smiles on this journey. I’m used to saying “Hello” to fellow hikers on the trails in Boulder, but the level of friendliness here far surpasses anything I’ve ever experienced. Everyone I come across (usually shepherds or men directing long trains of donkeys) greets me with a smile and a heartfelt “Namaste.”
The kids are the cutest as they clasp their hands together like little Buddhas. But they plead for “sweets” and “chocolate.” I might be inclined to give them something if I saw evidence of a dentist anywhere.
Unfortunately, on my fifth day the dreaded Nepalese Thanksgiving curse hits me. It seems that I’ve eaten some bad daal bhat, and my stomach is not happy.
Biking to Pokhara from Katmandu…Sore ass!
Read about it here in the DailyCamera…or just read it below.
KATHMANDU, Nepal — The smell of burning trash fills the air.
The evening sun is penetrating through the thick haze hanging over the city, creating a golden light.
Motorcycles, Tuk Tuks and an army of beat-up taxis maneuver ever so carefully through the chaotic labyrinth of roads. The sounds of high-pitched horns blasting from every vehicle create somewhat of an obnoxious symphony. Cows, water buffalo, dogs and even monkeys trot through the streets without a care.
I feel like we could crash at any second, but there seems to be order in this chaos. Our taxi driver has a huge smile on his face. I look around the streets and everyone else seems to be smiling, too.
I’ve only been in Kathmandu five minutes, and all my senses have been on overdrive. I love this country.
This is my second trip to the land of the Himalayas. Ever since I visited here 10 years ago, I’ve told people that Nepal is the most exotic country I have ever experienced. I sometimes feel like I’m on another planet.
I’m not planning on staying in Kathmandu long. My mission here is to hike the Annapurna Circuit in the Himalayas. I did a small portion of this walk years ago, and it was one of the most magical experiences of my life. This time, I’m here to complete the entire 210K trek.
In typical Duzer fashion, I’m determined to get a bike involved in the adventure.
I convince my buddy Skip to rent bikes and ride two days to the start of the trek. He’s hesitant at first; he’s been here before and has seen the dangerous highway connecting Kathmandu and Pokhara. I know we’ll be fine — after all, we’re in a country where cows are kings of the roads and killing one brings about a mandatory two-year jail sentence.
I’d like to think that we are somewhat protected creatures, as well.
It’s chilly the morning we ride out of Kathmandu, and I quickly realize that I’m riding on the wrong side of the road, as everyone is coming straight at me. I dodge chickens, dogs and monkeys coming at me. But the worst part is breathing in all the exhaust. The air is part dust with a dash of diesel fumes and a load of burning trash — a nasty potpourri of pollution.
After an hour of slicing through traffic, we make it out of the valley. Now the fun begins.
The “highway” we’re on is the thoroughfare connecting the two main cities. It’s really more of a one-lane road, with about a foot of space to pass on either side. Imagine Flagstaff Road full of dump trucks, cars, motorcycles and a host of other motorized vehicles all zig-zagging around one another. I actually feel safer on a bike; I protect myself behind the big trucks and let them lead me down the mountain.
The scenery is breathtaking. We’re riding through jungle hills, and far off in the distance we can see the giant snow-capped Himalayas. That gives us motivation to pedal faster.
After two grueling days, we make it to our destination with incredibly sore behinds (forgot to pack biking shorts — oops). It’s time to hike in the highest mountains in the world.
Duzer Duz the Himalayas!
Hello friends! I’m currently in NYC getting some last minute items for the trek and drinking Sangria with my brother. Tonight I’ll board one of those magic flying machines that will take me to Abu Dabi, (14 hour layover, how much trouble do you think I can get into?). Then it’s off to the Kingdom of Nepal to look for unicorns, Care Bears and the mighty YETI!
I’m so excited! This is the definition of a dream job, filming a trek in the Himalayas for National Geographic! Whoa, lucky me! I’ll be doing the entire Annapurna circuit, a 20 day trek that starts in the sub tropics, goes up to 18,000 feet and passes through the world’s deepest gorge. I did a piece of this trek in 2000 and it was one of the most magical experiences of my life. And this time I’ll be filming the entire way so I can share it will you!
Oh and all you mothers out there will be happy to know that I’m not doing this adventure alone. My good buddy Skip will be by my side the entire time making sure I don’t get into too much trouble.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to update this blog as much as usual, the internet up there at 18,000 feet is kinda spotty 
Namaste my friends!
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