morleyroarly | Trekking in the Himalayas

It's hard to compose a coherent description of our trekking experiences. Instead, I'll do my usual bit and offer a few selected images.

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Jumping down from a 6 foot muddy cliff onto the rocky road, boarding a beat-up old Land Rover, and rattling along to Tunglu just as the sky opens and disgorges a smattering of rain and hailstones. The way the hail collects alongside the road, looking like a mixture between snow and plastic bags.

Eating hot noodle soup with carrots, coriander and onions in the trekkers hut in Tunglu. Warming our hands over the wood fired stove. Going to the bathroom in the outhouse and watching steam rise up into the cold air.

The open expanse of the plains from Tunglu to Garibans, hemmed in by mist and filled with cows and small footpaths.

A hail ball fight with Tom along the road to Garibans.

Reaching Garibans just before dark, freezing cold. Meeting Tibor from Hungary and talking to him about birdwatching in the Himalayas.

Port wine and chocolate shared with Tibor, the two Frenchies Mimsy and Laurent, Tom and I. Sitting on the hard dorm beds in our dorm room drinking and chatting about travel and life.

Secrets in the cold dark still night of Garibans. Wide eyes.

Feeling utterly cranky at the start of the hike to Sandakphu. Tom taking the best cranky photo ever, thereby lightening my mood.

The long walk up to Kalpokhari, splitting off from Tom and grooving along to Joe Frank and Deep Forest as I plod slowly, step by step, up to the pass.

A side of mutton hangs from the wooden roof beams of a low ceiling in Kalpokhari. Are we in Nepal or India? Hard to say. The tea is strong and the rice wine is warm, the owner's young daughter serves us more rice and stewed potatoes as our fingers come back to life.

Himalayan Griffons with wingspans up to 2 meters wide hang in the air, their feet paddling at thin oxygen and their heads bobbing up and down in search of carrion and rubbish. Bright blue sky eclipsed by thick, full white clouds and dragons' breaths of mist.

Photographing Tom at the small dining table in the tea house in Kalpokhari.

Making a phone call from 10,000 feet.

The long slow trudge up to Sandakphu. Arriving at 11,900 feet in the fading light, my fingers and scalp numb and wet from cold and sweat.

Mount Everest at 5 o'clock in the morning, barely visible in the distance, a hazy triangle of pink light in the pale blue dawn sky. Kachenjunga (world's 3rd highest mountain) looming over Sikkim and West Bengal. Snow blowing off the peak in long delicate wisps.

"You have a lot of ground to cover to catch up!" Tom and I laughing and slowly working our way to Molley.

Peeling hard-boiled eggs for lunch.

World domination through toilet technology.

Looking up across the trail to see a yak's black and white face staring back at me through the mist. Watching the yak run downhill, hair flying in the breeze like a beautiful woman's tresses. A brief moment of fear before it becomes clear said yak is running *away from* not *towards* me.

Gneisses. Schists. Feldspars. Sands, clays. Banded gneisses weathering into soil. Reds and yellows, whites, greys and blacks. 11,000 ft elevation roads paved with chunks of gneiss.

"Starts with R, ends with -aining".

Vincent standing on the bed in his black longjohns, looking for all the world like a mental institution escapee, offering words of blessing and care.

Drinking Sikkim XXX flavored rum at the wooden table in the Molley dining room. Discussing marriage, love, wine and travel with the Frenchies and the Germans.

Sitting in the small wooden kitchen hut in Molley with the self-proclaimed "King of Darjeeling", two Indian sherpas, an old army commander, the Frenchies and Germans, Tom, a bottle of rice wine, and a small smoky fire.

Holding each other tight in the windy cold night. Reassurance.

Popping my big toe blisters with a needle, washing with boiled spring water, and buying two packages of yucky mango biscuits for the downhill hike to Shri Khola.

The taste of iodine-treated spring water mixed with Emergen-C. Nasty, nasty stuff, but at least it hydrates!

Clouds passing in front of the sun, then back again. Flitting into and out of the trees, all the while hiking down, down, down from the hills to the river.

Cows and donkeys creating mayhem attempting to cross the suspension bridge at Shri Khola.

The middle of the suspension bridge, the moon almost full, prayer flags fluttering in the nighttime breeze. Balance, excitement.

Warm Tibetan beer served in small wooden casks. Playing cards with the Europeans. Taking a hot bucket bath for the first time in four days.

Breaking the bed.

Mutton momos at the Tibetan restaurant in Rimbik.

The 5 hour jeep ride back to Darjeeling, planning and laughing and imagining and losing sensation in my hip bones.

Joy. Connection. Rilke over breakfast, strength and solitude and so much balance and optimism. Garnets, yak wool, laughter and sunrises.

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And with that, I'm off to finish tagging my flickr photos. Tons uploaded, go take a look!