The Dutch

When Michael’s alarm went off at 5am I was too comatose to notice and it was only as he was rustling through his pack for extra layers that I groggily peeled back a lid onto the grey, pre-dawn light that was struggling past the tracing-paper curtains. I cricked my neck to look out at the sky and was greeted by the slenderest crack of growing brightness between the tops of some of the lower hills and a dark, damp mass of thick cloud. I felt disappointment and relief in equal measure as I realised we were to be denied the sight of the full Annapurna Himal bathed in sunrise…and saved the laborious exercise of scrambling to the summit of Poon Hill in the twilight. I gave it not another thought and fell guiltlessly back into a deep sleep for another 2 sweet hours.
After breakfast in front of a lovely warm stove I was just about fit and ready for the trek to Tadapani. I was still feeling a little weak after stupidly over-exerting myself the previous day and was certainly in no hurry to make the same mistake twice…from now on I intended to take a steadier, slower pace and to make more frequent rest-stops. However, I did want to escape from this higher altitude owing to a bit of a headache and therefore, as the path sloped cruelly upwards into intermittent flurries of snow, I was loath to take a break until the trail had started back downhill again. After my experiences at Muktinath, I knew the best way to ease the pain would be to descend a couple of hundred metres – the sooner the better! Eventually the trail broke down off the hill and dropped back into the thick rhododendron forests of the previous day and then into a damp, fertile valley where we found a warm, welcoming teahouse to reward our efforts after the first snow of the trek. Mindful of my failing energy the previous day, I gobbled down a packet of coconut cookies with my hot lemon in order to keep the fires burning nicely. Leaving the teahouse, we traversed along this high, narrow valley before heading steeply down once again – this time, into a pleasing, picturesque river gorge. The river had cloven a deep and extremely steep cleft from towering sandstone cliffs and all around the air was alive with the sounds of birdsong and running water. Sunlight found its way between the tangled branches of gnarly old trees, dappling the ground and canyon walls and making every turn of the head a cascading kaleidoscope of visual pleasure. All too soon, the narrow stream bed flattened out into the full light of the sun and we arrived at our designated lunchspot.
The teahouse was run by a pair of friendly ladies and their food was excellent. To add to the pleasure we were joined by two Dutch and a Belgian who had stayed at the same teahouse as us in Kagbeni. Loes, Sylvie and Denis were affable, friendly and good fun and we had plenty of time to laugh and joke about our different nationalities’ stereotypical shortcomings before it was time for us to head along the final stretch to Tadapani. Interestingly, Loes was from Eindhoven – the same Dutch town that my mother’s family hails from – and we soon made plans to meet up to help them celebrate Queen’s Day at the Dutch Consulate in Kathmandu at the end of the month.
Michael, Suriya and I left them to finish their lunch and set off into the last valley between us and Tadapani – 15 mins of steep descent, followed by ½ hour of heavy climb brought us to our destination. Perched on the saddle between two valleys, overlooking a further four, Tadapani has highly-regarded aspects towards the Annapurnas range. As we crested the rise we had views, partially obscured by cloud, of Annapurna South, Himchiuli and Machapucharre and it seemed like we’d just have to wait for the clouds to break to get some much-coveted photos. Of course, waiting for the clouds to break can be a lengthy business in this neck of the woods and, not long after depositing our packs in a particularly gelid bedchamber, Michael and I found ourselves witnessing the power of a Himalayan squall. Even at this height (only 2620m) sudden gusting winds picked up heavy wooden outdoor furniture from the patio and deposited it scornfully down the hill into a vegetable patch. Within seconds even the neighbouring foothills were lost in a swirling mist and the mountains themselves were enveloped in dense, dark clouds, which began to unleash a surprisingly heavy rain. We stood on the balcony watching the effects of Nature’s power with awed expressions, hoping to see the Dutch come over the pass before conditions got any worse. After a few minutes, slightly bedraggled but in remarkably good cheer, our new friends struggled over the windswept ridge and tumbled into a room next door to us.
We had an entertaining evening in the dining room with them, their guide Dumbar and Suriya as the banter and the hot tea flowed and we warmed ourselves around an ingenious heated table. At one point the clouds cleared sufficiently for us to fire off a few shots of Machapucharre’s beautiful profile. Chief amusement for me was watching the Dutch (Sylvie had become and honorary Dutch person as she was a Flemish Belgian and the two languages are practically identical anyway) and Michael go off, one by one, for ‘hot’ showers – only to come back shivering and cursing the lack of heat in the Nepali definition of hot. I cunningly bided my time, waiting for the stove-heated water system to get up to a decent temperature and then smugly enjoyed perhaps the warmest and most-satisfying shower of the entire trek…of course, I made a point of sharing this fact with everyone else ;-).
The Dutch introduced us to the novel entertainment of entertainment of ‘Evaluation’, when each member of the trekking group finds positive and negative things to say about each of the other members. This was a great team-builder and highly amusing – particularly when oiled by a little of the local Raksi. Despite all the fun and shenanigans we all still got to bed by 9pm – the Dutch because they were heading up to Annapurna Base Camp (meaning another 8 days on the trail before arriving back in Pokhara, necessitating an early arrival at the next day’s destination in order to get their laundry done); Michael and I to continue reading gripping books (I’d given him ‘Into the Wild’ and I was midway through Joe Simpson’s ‘Touching the Void’). He and I had the prospect of an easy day to come – the penultimate day before returning to Pokhara.