In between mountains, find the ocean

by Pooja Lama (Nepal)

A leap into the unknown Nepal

On the way to Machhapuchhre Base Camp (MBC), at least three walls of toughened ice – hundreds of meters wide & tall had to be carefully navigated across. In some parts it was muddied, in some others ready to collapse into crevasses – the depths of which could not be ascertained, everywhere else – slippery solid. ‘A few weeks ago there was an avalanche and someone had disappeared’, I recalled, but I could not remember who had told me this. Fortunately (as always), there were footsteps of previous travelers carved onto ice to retrace. Throughout that stretch, rays of the rising sun deflected from the left edge of Machhapuchhre (Mount Fishtail), creating a miraculous beam of light shaded green & pink that decorated half the sky in its shimmering wonder. Stretches of dim green forests that appeared below the mossed up cliffs that lay forth, the clear blue sky, the waterfalls above that sprinkled joy, & the river that became gentler as the trail progressed further served to pacify us. After the trail changed directions, one of the Annapurna mountains, drenched in rich pastel blue, peeked at us from the horizon. The idea of having a cup of steaming hot lemon with honey is something that could deliver a much needed kick at MBC and it was what primarily motivated my three remaining exhausted companions to get there so quickly. Nevertheless, continuing our walk to reach the Annapurna Base Camp was clearly the best idea. We followed a slightly frozen river up. Its inclination was gradual. The iced section grew thicker & wider, so much so that it eventually covered the entire depression. The stretch of ice that met the mountains at the horizon seemed like a regal white carpet, under which the river flowed in gurgles. At one point, I was all by myself. My companions took breaks in between and I somehow forgot that they also existed against this majestic backdrop. As I waited for them, I took a 5 min detour towards a thick plot of ice by the river side and was next to fairly large rock covered with ice which was fixated to the ground. I put my gloved hand on the rock and thought, “These Mountains were ocean once and now in between these mountains, the same ocean flows”. A sharp whistle blew. It was Kalyan. He was calling me back. I proceeded and almost told him that I forgot he was there. Each step had the potential to yield a tricky fall. The sticks like always became our saviors. Meanwhile, from above, tens of tourists, their porters & guides, some of them with kettles & stoves in their hands, descended in glee. They did not worry about slips or falls, & a few of them even dared to slide down recklessly. It was a complete contrast to our careful approach. Of a glacier beyond the preliminary Annapurna Base Camp I had heard for ages from hardy travelers, ones who saw no significance in sharing the ethereal enchantment it had elated them with. A visual I had seen not, yet I assuredly knew of what awaited me there. Kalyan surprisingly reached the camp a few minutes after I did. His solo, meditative ascent had proven fruitful. The exhaustion was dire & he wished to descend into a sound nap. I knew that it would be some while before he recovered, I knew that it would be some while before Radhika and her husband got there. With my companion’s consent, I set out & about alone. A considerable amount of reconstruction work was going on outside. A team of workers was taking measures, while another was cutting logs into shape. One structure was merely elevated pillars, another had attained a frame. Seesaw, seesaw, up & down moved a two man saw, sawdust fell like glitters to the floor. Somewhere a drill rang loud, bags of cement were scattered throughout. Puffed, gloved, & covered with dust; everyone seemed busy with the work at hand. No one questioned me as I traversed across & past the settlement. I felt like a fleeting spirit on that path marked by footprints on depleting masses of ice. Crunch, crunch, crunch!