Oct
23
2007
Cheryl & I just Skyped. It appears we’ve had a miscommunication — a friendly one. She’s had a long-term plan to trek with another friend this spring.
- I could swear I remember her saying that, because of this, spring is not an option for my visit.
- She thought she’d told me that she can shuffle plans with her other friend to free up time for a spring trek.
I felt a jolt of hope when I realized I might see Nepal after all, depending on a million variables. Then I got confused. Having painfully but finally cut loose that idea, I’d begun investigating other destinations. Now I no longer know what to do. I really want to visit Cheryl in Nepal. I also really need to get away before spring, and South and Central America have been calling. Can I do both? I guess it’s a good kind of quandary to be in. And as Lulu philosophized when she was three, “Oh well. Life is life.”
Notes to self: Ideal trekking time = last three weeks of April; contact Thakur about good rafting at that time of year (Cheryl sez the Marsyangdi is beautiful; I still want to go to the Kali Gandaki, or if I had ten days to spare I thought I’d want to see the Sunkoshi — despite the following excerpt:
Speaking of Lulu, I’ve just been instant-messaging her. (If Internet technology didn’t exist, I wonder what I’d be doing tonight.) I’ve told her about this latest unfurling and asked for her advice:
“Play it by ear. Don’t stop looking at other options, but continue to hold Nepal as one too.”
She’s as wise now as at three. With exceptions. Like deciding to ride her bike in flip-flops today:
Aug
23
2007
It’s been fun trolling the Internet for information on Nepal’s rivers. Aqua-philes are strange beasts, if you can judge by their joyous metaphors about South Asia’s whitewater:
- “Like being flushed down an open-air toilet.”
- “Like reading an erotic novel.”
- “Like a pinball machine and you’re the ball.”
- “Orgasmic.”
Some people offer valuable advice, like “Try not to get hung up on the bone-cracking boulder placed nastily in the middle of this section of the river.” And then there are translation quirks, linguistically delightful and visually rich.
“One of the famous names of Himalayan Rivers, the Kali Gandaki raises in mustang an enclave of Nepal poking into Tibet on the other side of the Himalaya. Here it is a flat and braided river flowing in an arid open valley and cuts one of the deepest gorges in the world between Daulagiri height 8167m to the west and Annapurna 8091m to the east.
Speaking of the Kali Gandaki, that’s the one I’m leaning toward visiting. It’s the only one whose overview isn’t filled with caveats like “Great views but you need rear view mirrors,” “Once you’re on the river there is no time to stop and admire the scenery,” and “At the end of the day your head will be spinning.” Here’s what I like about the Kali Gandaki:
“Named after the much-revered Goddess Kali … the river offers a mixture of astounding mountain views and pure adrenaline with a full immersion into the wilderness.
“Turbulent rapids intertwine with abrupt drops as we dodge our way down intricate chutes of sparkling water. Village terraces cling precariously to the slopes … set against the backdrop of the Annapurna range and surreal snow capped peaks … we drift through the world’s deepest gorge … shadowy canyons of stone.
Being one of the holiest rivers in Nepal, every junction of the Kali Gandaki is dotted with cremation sites and above ground burial mounds.”
Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I want to go to the Marsyangdi instead.
Aug
21
2007
I’m still intrigued by the possibility of going rafting. I’d get to see a different part of the country — not just the river itself but the countryside enroute. And the rivers pass through remote villages so I’d get a fleeting glimpse of life in other parts of Nepal, in addition to the Sherpa region where we’re trekking.
On our Upper Klamath trip this summer I realized I don’t like nonstop, big rapids. It’s such hard work that you can’t enjoy what’s around you. An ideal for me is a river that’s relatively wild but punctuated with quieter rapids.
And I don’t want to go for a single-day trip, because (depending on where I’d go) it would be a hunk of bus travel (possibly a flight too) just for one day. And spending a few nights under the stars in such country sounds idyllic.
October and November seem to be the the time for rafting. Water levels get low after that: less volume but more rock. So I called my travel agent to see if I could still get good reservations for different dates. I can.
I hope I stop changing my mind. I’m really bad at making travel plans well in advance. You never know what’ll inspire you in the meantime. I appreciate the idea of being organized and settled, but it’s more fun to stay flexible, like Gumby.
