Day 16 - Mighty Winds Watching the Gate to Upper Mustang

Muktinath to Kagbeni

The alarm rings at 5:30am, but after a quick glance through the window I stay in bed. It's cloudy.

An hour later, however, the sky is clear and on the horizon there's impressive Dhaulagiri peak glittering in the sun. Next to it, to the right and much smaller is Tukuche peak. They stand out against the deep blue sky and the prayer flags of the nearby monastery only add to the charming beauty of the image. Of course I take pictures in a frenzy.

I enjoy my breakfast outside, in front of the hotel, in the sun. It's a lovely morning which surely will turn into a very hot day. I am content to just watch the people passing by, the women carrying baskets full of vegetables on their back, trekkers leaving, porters chatting, cattle wandering in the middle of the road.

The bulk of trekkers I've come over the pass with are leaving. Some are in a rush to get the plane from Jomosom to Pokhara and return to civilization. They ignore me all, but I'm fine with that. I didn't pay very much attention to them either over the past few days. I mean, I saw and observed them but I did not enter conversations, play cards or socialize in any way. Most of them are complaining bout feeling sore after yesterday's strenouous descent. Even Pipi mentioned something about soreness to me. I think I'm turning into a totally insensitive creature - well, except for the overwhelming feeling of happiness I really don't feel anything. I hope that's not a bad thing :-)

I slowly get ready for departure around 8:30am. But I'm not in a rush and I plan on taking lots of pictures today. And I want to visit the medieval village of Jharkot on the way with its ruined fortress and old monastery.
Today I say a motorcycle and over the course of the day I am going to see even a few cars. Not something I am looking forward to.

We reach Jharkot on the wide and dusty road within one hour. The village is a cluster of grey stone houses perched on a hilltop, flat roofed in traditional Tibetan style with prayer flags fluttering everywhere. There are piles of firewood on the roofs. The ruined walls of the old fortress still dominate the landscape, but there's nothing else to see from the fortress. From here the whole valley unfolds reddish and bare, eroded and dry and it's just in the distance that you can see the white peaks. There's even a deep red canyon to the right which the road follows all the way down to Kagbeni.
Similar to Gyaru, Jharkot takes me into its spell right away with its narrow winding lanes and the beautiful views in all directions. The village is surrounded by a green belt of trees and the contrast between this green, the sky-blue and the desert-brown is fascinating.

The gompa (monastery) in Jharkot is several hundred years old. The wall paintings are vividly coloured but need some restoration work. The walls made of stones covered in mud are extremely uneven, the room is small, the altar in the center houses some Buddha statues. A couple of monks are taking care of the gompa, in total there are some 10 monks here. There is an entrance fee which is said to contribute to the conservation efforts. It is a simple, peaceful and beautiful place where you can see the signs of the centuries gone by.

The dusty road leaves the village crossing fields and vegetable gardens, It is a very scenic walk. On the right the yellow-reddish canyon, some nice green rice terraces along the little river, the white peaks ahead. A lot of people are in the fields working and harvesting. It's a harsh climate and an inhospitable terrain and the people depend on their little harvests to survive. They have smartly channeled the water sources to allow them to water their land and crops.

After the little hamlet of Khinga I catch up with Barbara and Lars and we continue together all the way to Kagbeni. Except for the inhabited areas the land is totally arid and desert-like. There's scarcely any vegetation, but rocks, more rocks than you can imagine, as if it rained rocks. The few animals we encounter (mules, cows or horses) are having a hard time grazing.

Among the trees planted along the canyon rim there are some which have turned yellow - a reminder that it is fall already.
The steep bare slopes we see getting closer in front of us are leading down into the Kali Gandaki valley. The little canyon we are following eventually ends there in Kagbeni as well. Kali Gandaki - the Black Gandaki - is the river from Upper Mustang we will walk along downstream all the way to Tatopani. We can't yet see it.

As we get closer to Kagbeni the land looks more and more inhospitable. We soon also realize why. The fiercy wind this region is famous for is picking up. I have been warned by Pipi, but this exceeds my expectations. The wind gusts almost lift you off your feet. They raise huge clouds of dust into the air, swirling them around and making breathing difficult. No wonder nothing grows here. I'm happy that my back is heavy. It makes me feel more grounded. Nonetheless, sometimes we have to stop and turn our back to the wind in order to breathe.

Eventually our trail starts descending steeply from this high barren plateau into the Kali Gandaki valley and to the ancient village of Kagbeni, gateway to Upper Mustang and Tibet. By the time we reach the village the wind is a continuous force dragging you off your feet, stirring the soil and blurring the views. But we haven't failed to notice the green apple orchards, millet fields and vegetable gardens on the canyon bottom only partially shielded from the strong winds.

Kagbeni is located on the left bank of the Kali Gandaki river. It, too, was a fortified village and it now the outpost in the Mustang district before entering the restricted Upper Mustang. A checkpost at the far end of the village, where the wide riverbed leads North to Upper Mustang and Tibet, is responsible for checking permits and restricting access accordingly.

We stop at the Shangri-La hotel, a luxury hotel by trekking standards. Rooms have attached bathrooms and hot showers. From my window I can see Nilgiri peak just by sitting up on my bed and the dining room on the second floor offers 360 views.
We can sit in the dining room protected from the strong winds and eat while admiring the majestic Nilgiri peak to the South-East, the Mustang landscape to the North and West, the Kali Gandaki to the South. To the North East, where we're coming from, it still looks cloudy and grey.
I am starving. Hence, even before taking a shower I order lots of food: vegetable filled momos and daalbhat. We are chatting over lunch with Barbara and Lars.

After lunch I have an excellent shower and then I'm ready to the village. Lots of dogs are sleeping in the sun. Dozens of tiny calves are lazying in the sun as well. I've never seen this many and such tiny ones before. It's clearly siesta time. Nothing seems to happen or move. On the narrow slab-paved alleys you are protected from the wind, but not so from the heat. And it is damn hot!

I notice the smart system for diverting and channeling the water - either open channels or channels covered by the slabs right under my feet.
Someone with money and a weird sense of humour has built ad painted "MacYak Hotel" with the "M" clearly borrowed from the famous chain we all at least heard about: McDonald's. There's even a "7-eleven" sign there and you can find all the goodies you can imagine including Lux soap bars, deodorants and whisky.

I a little plaza around a chorten some women are busy spinning wool. An old woman is praying on her doorsteps. A little further a few children are busy playing in the dust.
Past a very long mani wall I reach the end of the village and the gate to Upper Mustang. It's a fantastic, peaceful view. The wide and flat riverbed is rocky and of a light grey colour, but the slopes and hills above are all reddish and bare.It sure looks like a fascinating magic land. A solitaire rider which has passed me earlier now rides on the riverbed in the "forbidden land". He blends in perfectly. I take pictures but not to my satisfaction. I do not dare to change lenses in this wind and dust cloud. The wind here is terrible and also chilly.

Following a winding narrow lane I manage to reach the old gompa. It dates from 1429 and it has housed many monks until the 18th century. After paying the entry fee I enter the room and admire the fine frescos and woodwork as well as the bronze statues of Buddha Sakyamuni and his disciples.
By the time I return to the hotel the vilage lanes are flooded by cows and goats all returning home for the night after a day of grazing. I'm not quite sure where they were grzing as I haven't seen any meadows or pastures anywhere near Kagbeni.

After a tasty dinner and a longer conversation with Barbara and Lars I go to my room. It is late by my new standards - 8pm - but I still get to read a little bit.