Trek to Rara Lake : Day 1

I’ve wanted to go to Rara ever since my first trip to Jumla. Finally, on this, my fifth visit, I made it there. And back. Just.

I had been nervously anticipating our journey, as I knew it would be physically challenging for me, even with the walks we had been taking almost every day in an attempt to get me prepared.  People mistakenly think I am fit and strong for some reason. Not the case. I’ve come to the conclusion that in the same way I’m naturally quite flexible, I’m also naturally unfit. To say I am out of shape wouldn’t be right as it would imply I’d been ‘in shape’ at some point.

Estimations for our journey times varied depending on how much people realised the level of unfitness they were dealing with. For locals, the journey from Jumla all the way to Gamgadhi (Mugu Bazaar) can be done in less than one day of serious walking. My mind boggles at this thought – that is crossing two mountain passes. It seems like locals don’t find the gradient to have much effect on them. I watched many people who overtook us along the way (in fact, everyone we encountered overtook us), keep a steady pace going uphill as though they were strolling down the promenade. And downhill, people pretty much skip down slippery slopes. Not me.

I have the ability to be slow in both directions. Going up is just exhausting. Steep climbs with the air thinning at every step (had to blame it a little on altitude). I had to frequently rest to catch my breath. And going down was probably just as slow. I have had weak ankles since I first sprained them years ago, so I’m always a little tentative - afraid of turning one. And now, my knees aren’t in great shape, so manoeuvring down precipitous, often gravelly and slippery inclines was treacherous for me.

Knowing that I hadn’t really trekked at all over these past few years I have spent in Nepal, Nisha had warned me that the first day was the hardest. The first part of the journey was to Patmara, a village I had walked to before a couple of years ago, supposedly an hour and a half from Urthu. I remembered this walk being exhausting the first time and was pleased to find it not quite as much of a struggle, although it still took us three hours. We soon learned that if we doubled any estimated times, we had a pretty accurate idea of how long it would take us to get somewhere.  From Patmara it was again an hour or so up (and I mean UP) to Kali. (3642 M/11,948 ft).

 This also took us three hours, but as we sat in Bali Budha’s tea house having a (late) lunch snack of dal with leftover sabji (vegetables), I comforted myself that we were now at the pass and it was only downhill from there.

Bali Budha - who I knew from the trainings

We set off down the hill after lunch facing a long road of thick, icy mud and slippery snow. There is a new ‘road’ that winds down the hill but it was a pretty hazardous squelchy journey that seemed never-ending. After a couple of hours as the afternoon light started to fade we encountered a group of lively women coming straight down the hill, intersecting the muddy road. After the usual ‘where are you going’ conversation, we discovered that the new road was the extra long route and the way was straight down crossing the road as it meandered down the hill.  They insisted that we walk with them even after our protestations that we (or I) were so slow that we would make them late. But they didn’t care and they chatted away with Nisha, leading the way down what was barely recongisable as a path, but clearly a much shorter route.  I embarrassingly fumbled along at the back, climbing over boulders and felled trees, trying to gracefully slide down the slopes as they were, of course, all laden with an array of bulky boxes stacked on top of sacks and baskets. They skipped ahead laughing together - I wondered if they were making kindly fun of the large, lumbering bideshi (foreigner) taking baby steps down the mountain.

our new friends

By now I was feeling more than a little weary. In fact, I was really suffering. We’d been going for 10 hours, I was getting shooting pains in my shoulder, and aches in my knees at every step, feeling weak and pathetic as I struggled my way down the hill. I thought to myself, ‘Maybe I’m just not cut out for trekking, this isn’t fun. And this is only day 1 – I have at least 6 more days of this!’.  We had been thinking we were nearly at Nauri Ghat, where we were planning to stay the night, so when they said we had another hour to go (at our speed), I nearly burst into tears.

But there was nothing to do but keep going – one foot in front of the next. The nearly full moon appeared over the ridge as we parted company with our new friends.  The short cut complete we continued downhill, the remainder of the journey significantly more manageable, although I was so wrecked by then Nisha even offered to take my rucksack and carry it along with hers too.  I refused, saying I’d carried it all day and she wasn’t going to take the credit for the last bit! When we finally saw the village up ahead, what relief! It was already past dusk and our guest house was adorned with fairy lights like some kind of magic haven. When we stepped into the kitchen and sat down, I could barely speak.  I attempted to struggle out of my rucksack, but my shoulder was so stiff, I couldn’t get my arm out with out assistance.  Upon inspection in the room, my opposing shoulder was completely swollen. As I sipped my beer and thought about how well I would sleep, I just hoped Nisha was right and the hardest day was behind me.