19 DAYS

Nineteen days. That’s how long it took us to complete what some consider the greatest trek in the world. One hundred and fifty miles on foot. Possibly tens of thousands of steps through gales of bone-chilling wind carrying buckets of dust and animal filth into the air and more often than not into your face. Ascents that take you across one of the world’s highest mountain passes (I recently thumbed through a book called The Heart of the World wherein the author described passing a mountain pass in Tibet several hundred feet higher than the Annapurna’s Thorung La, which is already well over 17,000 feet). Seemingly never-ending serpentine trails made treacherous by ice and snow, at times threatening to drop you hundreds, perhaps thousands, of feet into a rocky roaring river. The constant threat of Acute Mountain Sickness, which if unheeded can kill you (people who suffer from AMS must descend as rapidly as possible to a significantly lower elevation to prevent unpleasant things such as cerebral or pulmonary edema). Rapid knee-breaking and hip-crushing descents that easily exceed 1,000 meters on several days. The salient question after all this is: Why?

For adventure? To challenge one’s physical limits? To experience the power and beauty of nature in one of the world’s rawest environments? For love? Indeed, for all of the above.

Our first trip to Nepal over two years ago was the first time we were exposed to outdoor tourism. Elena and I spent about two weeks in the Himalayan Kingdom, and five of those days were spent in the Everest region. When I returned to our water-locked country I pined constantly for the inexplicable magic of being in a part of the world that (comparatively speaking) few in this world see. But more than that, there is something I cannot adequately put into words that pervades Nepal, and especially the mountain regions. I can only say it is beyond magic, it is beyond mere romance, and to call it a spiritual experience somehow doesn’t hit the core of this majestic and mystical world. I knew I had to return. But next time I swore it would be for a longer stay.

And so for two years I dreamed and I planned and I wondered if we could cross the Thorung La without having to turn back because of AMS, which we both had experienced on our ascent to Shyangboche in the Everest region, or because of extreme fatigue. Part of the fun, though, of preparing for a trip like this is gearing up, and thanks to Jimmy Thai and Dino de Leon, we got some hot new gear. (I can’t tell you how important top-quality adventure gear is. There is simply no substitute for quality when it comes to facing an unforgiving and often relentless environment. For example, our guide’s knock-off North Face trekking shoes were virtually trashed by a single round of the Annapurna massif, while our two-year-old Columbia shoes still came out looking new after being cleaned.)

There certainly is a difference between authentic Goretex gear and something that just carries the logo. You do not want to make the mistake of purchasing low-end gear. You may not pay out of your wallet, but the Himalayas will punish you for your thrift. In fact, gearing up could be one of the more expensive portions of your trip — that and your round-trip airfare. Otherwise Nepal is a budget traveler’s dream. Cheap meals. Cheap accommodations. And affordable help! A porter — the poor sod that will carry your 18-20kg duffel bag — will earn a measly eight bucks a day for his troubles (and this fee will include his daily allowance for meals and lodging). Your guide will cost you a little more and he may not be keen on carrying a heavy load for you; my guide helped alleviate my load by taking care of our 1.5-liter pressurized water bottles but did not offer to carry my load on our longest trekking day wherein we started before 4 a.m. from Thorung Phedi, crossed the high pass, and continued onward until sunset around 5:30 p.m. when we reached Muktinath, an important pilgrimage site for Hindus and Buddhists.

But really, the hardest days are the first two or three days. This is when your body will actually start to bloat because of the change in altitude. Imagine: we live in a country that is virtually at sea level, and you will likely start the Annapurna Circuit at the dusty town of Besisahar, where your bus or taxi will drop you off.

After two days of walking I developed a nasty rash between my legs from the constant rubbing back and forth. This feeling is much worse than the feeling of fatigue. I soon took to applying Johnson’s Baby Powder at every rest stop, making awkward trips to any available outhouse to do so. I believe this has something to do also with the initial bloating factor, which made my thighs wider than usual, thereby exacerbating the friction between my legs. Yes, I know: not at all a pretty picture.

Fortunately, this condition cleared up after the completion of the first week, and after we had spent three nights acclimatizing in Manang, which is already above 3,500 meters, placing it as the first stop since the beginning of the circuit where anyone was in danger of developing AMS. Free lectures were given by volunteer doctors and physicians by the Himalayan Rescue Association in Manang. And it is a good idea to drop into one of these to pick up some tips and some medication that may help prevent AMS or at least relieve symptoms to give you enough time to descend.

But the highlight of a stay in Manang is it affords you the opportunity to trek up to meet the 100 Lama and receive a blessing from him to cross the Thorung La. This will cost you a 400-meter ascent as well as 100 rupees (hence his name). Another thing you must do is catch a movie at one of Manang’s ramshackle cinemas. We saw Seven Years in Tibet, and the experience of watching this film in such a makeshift but charming rustic theater is simply priceless, adding huge amounts of ambiance that a modern theater could never afford.

After you leave Manang, the environment gets increasingly wild and untamed, and the accommodations become more and more Spartan. Essentially, you will not enjoy the same level of comfort until you reach Muktinath, and as you proceed downward on the other side of the pass lodges will continue to improve, especially at Jomsom, where you can actually hop on a plane and fly back to Pokhara.

There is still lots of magic left after you cross the Thorung La, but the sheer barrenness and altitude of this portion of the circuit is mind-blowing. The sweeping snow. The brilliant sunrise you will see lighting up the entire Annapurna range. The gigantic herds of yaks rumbling across plains of rough vegetation. You cannot get this in the polished worlds we live in. New York, Tokyo, London: I’ve been to these mega-cities, and was enchanted by each, but the Annapurna Circuit inspires an awe that wells up from the deepest core of your soul, an awe that you may never know surrounded by the easy trappings of modernity. You’ve heard the phrases: I feel close to God, or I am at the roof of the world, or I am walking next door to Heaven. These hint at the type of awe I am speaking of.

This journey was about adventure and physical challenge, but completing this 150-mile round of the Annapurna massif exposed me to an incomparable awe that I now associate with a true understanding of a deep fathomless love that springs from the core of one’s being: his or her soul.

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