E-Kantipur

Last week we escaped to Langtang.

North of Kathmandu, the Himalayan landscapes are dotted with serene lakes. Away from chaos and disorder, the area offers peace and tranquillity. Except for the news of continuing political deadlock, indefinite strike and the resultant hardships amongst the masses pretty much everything looks picture-perfect, paradise-like.

It’s mostly blue skies. Near the trail, as tail-less highland rats run for cover, Himalayan birds continue grain hunting. And herds of sheep and Chauris graze while the local lodge owners, mostly members of the indigenous Lama or Tamang community, go about their daily chores, often waiting for trekkers.

Since it’s not the peak tourist season, they want to take you in.  

“Are Khaires (western tourists) on their way, too?”

“Yes, a couple of them.”

Spring break

We wanted to escape the Kathmandu chaos. But even in Langtang, fear stalked the Dhunche-Gosaikunda-Thadepati-Helambu trail, thanks to the new wave of anti-government Maoist protests. In Dhunche and Trishuli, we heard tales of how Maoists were coaxing local youths into joining their groups travelling to the capital.

Even so, “the security agencies could do nothing but watch,” a local journalist in Dhunche said. Taking a break during our ascent near Chandanbari, we briefly chatted with a friendly Nepal Army sentry outside a post.  Smiling, we left. Ten minutes later, as we stopped at the Chandanbari cheese factory, a soldier came and thoroughly checked our backpacks, our books and diaries and even the pictures captured in our digital camera. They wanted to make sure that we are not NA’s “enemy”.

To me, that was a grim reminder of the Maoist insurgency days.

That aside, everything else looked honky dory. Travelling from the capital on a bus, we were lucky to find the highway clear and hassle-free. Seeing the three-decade-old highway finally being modernised with support from the Asian Development Bank (ADB), I felt even happier for the Rasuwa villagers and travellers.

Still, the long-term management of the two dreaded highway landslides — Ramche and Mulkharka — is uncertain. Nothing short of a very careful and possibly expensive bioengineering project a la Krishnabhir along the Prithvi hwy can tame them.

Soon, the area will be connected by road with Kerung in the Tibetan Autonomous Region of China. That will likely unleash a whole new wave of Sino-Nepal — and possibly Sino-Nepal-India — trading and commercial activities. That will take some time. But until that happens, Rasuwa continues to beckon the world with its rich traditional, cultural and natural charms.

Rhododendron colours

As we ascended the steep trail from Chandanbari, we passed through red, pink and white rhododendron forests. There, we saw a stretch of forest destroyed by last year’s fire. Burnt trunks of trees popped out of the expanse slope filled with wild orchids in full blossom — still a beautiful sight.

Farther up, next to the ancient-looking pine forest and bamboo bushes, white rhododendrons were tinged with pink or blue. The pleasant and relatively easier climb through the Red Panda habitat landed us in Cholangpati, the gateway to Lauribinayak and Gosaikunda lake (4,600 m), a holy site for Buddhists and Hindus alike. The higher we climbed, the less oxygen we got, and the thinner the forest cover was.

And Langtang park’s rules are changing. One new rule discourages locals from using firewood. “It’s very cold up here and we don’t have any source of energy to keep our lodges warm,” said Nawang Lama, who runs a lodge on a small hillock overlooking Gosaikunda and Bhairabkunda, two of the area’s many snow-fed lakes. Mendo Lama, another lodge owner at Cholangpati, said: “Without enough firewood, life’s going to be even tougher.”

The problem is this: unlike in Langtang village, which lies further North, Gosaikunda area doesn’t have any source of electricity such as micro-hydro. “The state-subsidised solar panels are hardly enough to light up our houses,” said Nawang, his lips badly cracked due to cold. Even then, Gosaikunda visitors seemed to be coping with the chill and cold just fine.

Rejuvenating

During off seasons, the area boasts immense serenity and stunning natural beauty. A dawn- or dusk-time walk around Gosaikunda and Bhairabkunda can be both physically and spiritually stimulating, rejuvenating. After all, Lord Shiva is believed to have relaxed here after consuming poison that came out during the course of the mythological churning of the ocean.

We were scheduled to return to the capital via Helambu. So off we went climbing the Suryakunda pass, encountering Bardakunda and several other snow-fed lakes in the process. Near Suryakunda, we stopped for water and snacks break, and captured the exceptional natural beauty in our cameras.

It was just amazing.

But we had to leave; it was time to descend. The steep path got us to Ghopte Phedi, near the site of 1992 July 31 Thai Airways jet crash. Antare Lama, 31, the lodge owner there, still remembers that fateful day when the aircraft rammed into Ghopte Bhir and exploded into pieces, making global headlines.

“The bones were accumulated right here,” he said, as he held a damaged metal piece of aircraft that he got home from the crash site years ago. Nearby, a Buddhist Chhorten built in memory of a Korean woman, who died in the crash, stands still. The Lungtas flutter. As we prepared for more rough ups and downs en route to Thadepati, I wondered if we learnt any lessons from Ghoptebhir.

The path was tough yet visually rewarding, with ‘fairy tales all around’.

No escape

At Kutumsang in Western Helambu, we looked for our friend Sonam Sherpa. “After the Maoists threatened him, he went to the US,” said his sister-in-law, who guards Sonam’s house-cum-lodge in his family’s absence. “He’s working as head cook there.” We missed Sonam, the affable community leader.

Two more days of tough yet fun trekking got us to Shivapuri park from Langtang via Chipling hills. Soon after we descended from Sundarijal, we realised it’s the eve of the May 1 Maoist showdown. We saw a bunch of Maoist cadres participating in torch rally. We got back to the fear-stalked town. For a week, we tried to escape it all.

But we realised the next moment, there’s no escaping the Maoists.

Surendra Phuyal

nepal.surendra@gmail.com

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