The old trekking route

Namaste.

In an old trekking book, circa 1980, that I bought in a charity shop before I came to Nepal, it talks about the route up the valley to Besisahar from Dumre, which had to be walked as part of the Annapurna Circuit, before the road to Besisahar was built.  This trail was across the river, coming up the opposite side of the valley from the present road. Nowadays most trekkers catch a bus at least as far as Besisahar and often even further up the valley, but in those days there was an extra 50 kilometres to walk just to reach Besisahar.

As it was a beautiful clear Saturday with warm sunshine despite being January, I set out to try to follow the trail down the valley as far as time would allow in a day.  I hoped it still existed and was good to walk. I left Besisahar via a footbridge across the river that I know, and turned right instead of the usual left. 

There was a good track to follow, that undulated up and down the side valleys and over small ridges, always well above the river, the Marsyandi Nadi, a beautiful aquamarine colour from the glacier water it contains. 
























I crossed a couple of pretty streams on stepping-stones and once over a small suspension footbridge.  In places there had been small landslips and the old trail had disappeared, but there was a makeshift path over the rough earth, rocks and debris. This old route is obviously still well used by local people.

Washing hanging like flags in front of this small house.

In places the path went through small settlements, where people smiled and children shouted “Namaste!” or “Hello” and waved.  Men and women of all ages, sitting outside their houses in the sunshine were very curious about me.  “Where was I going?” 

'Where had I come from?” 

“Eklai?” (Was I alone?) 

Even one group of ‘old men’ sitting in the sun, after several similar questions enquired how old I was, and were amused (as I was) to find I was older than most of them! 

On display was the everyday life of simple rural people. The woman doing the family washing at the communal tap, children playing cricket with an old piece of wood for a bat and a round stone for the ball, men ploughing terraces with pairs of buffalo, women collecting fodder for their animals, young girls fetching firewood in their dokkos (cone-shaped baskets carried on their back by a head strap) others carrying dokkos full of manure for the fields.

Dokko shaped piles of manure dotted across the field.

Young women fetching firewood.

Several pairs of men were carrying very long bamboo poles along the track, which were obviously heavy as they had to take frequent rests.  I asked if I could feel the weight – they were heavy.  They invited me to sit down with them and have a rest too.  My language skills were not up to asking them what they were going to do with these poles, although I was curious.

How long? How heavy?  What's it for?

Sometimes the path led through forest and I listened to the chorus from the birds high in the trees.  Bamboo clumps with tall new shoots stretching up toward the sky, contained flocks of small twittering birds.

Part of the trail was below a steep rocky cliff and I watched a pair of eagles riding the thermals, but they were too high to photograph.  A kingfisher, beautifully bright with turquoise, skimmed up a stream and a family of four small brown squirrels scampered across the path and up into the nearby bush where they squealed to each other.

At intervals I could look back up to the snow-capped Annapurna peaks that towered above the valley, the town of Besisahar on a flat plain nestling in the valley is far below them. 

I finished by crossing the river on the long bridge above where it is damed for hydroelectricity. I know this bridge too, as it is the start of the route to two of the schools I visit. Once back on the road I returned to Besisahar by bus.  

What a great way to spend my day off!