The End?

My feet are sore and filthy. Today is my last day in India, and it only seemed right to walk the streets of Delhi to revisit the places we saw four months ago and to explore some new ones. The idea was to finish off with the “real” India and after getting lost in the maze of alleys in old Delhi and seeing huge forts, temples and mosques, I think I found it. Eight hours of walking, only consuming food and drinks that was prepared and served on streetsides (note the difference between this and “sidewalks”). Mango lassi, chai, samosas, chaat, fresh cucumbers, mangoes and peaches, and mysterious rice/veg dishes that have probably been in the works for several days. Children’s cricket matches in the park, arrogant police officers and palm trees in the haze of pollution. The mix of sweet, sour and acrid smells that only a sweet chop and an open sewer can produce. It has been a completely appropriate final day.

The last month has gone from happily lethargic while finishing my internship to hectic bouts of traveling by local bus up the coast. Finally, I made it to Pune, rested, and fought on through Mumbai to catch my final Indian Railways chariot – the Rajdhani Express. Now I’m waiting for my flight to take me west, back to the land of hygiene, order and great cheese! I still have thousands of photos and words to sort through and expect to be posting them as soon my photo library un-breaks… probably back in Canada! But first, it’s time for a holiday from this vacation so I’m headed to southern Germany for the week… See you soon!

Pre-Monsoon Heat in Andhra Pradesh – FES Update

Well I’m already about half way through my internship here in southern Andhra Pradesh and thought that maybe it was time for a quick update on my progress here. Basically, I spend my mornings roaming the countryside takings snaps of the things I encounter, all in the name of reviewing the wildlife monitoring program for the Foundation for Ecological Security (FES).

The “mornings” part is key, as summer in south India is scorching and the temperature regularly reaches 40-45deg and has been on the wrong side of 50 several times in the past week. The only respite is the occasional pre-monsoon thunderstorm that rolls through and pounds the dry earth with rain, but even the wind and rain are hot.

Still, wildlife is abundant and I’ve come across several healthy herds of deer, some hares, wild cat, mongoose and a symphony of birds. I’ve also found time each more to source out new boulders for climbing each day and have learned how much I can sweat.

The area we’re working in (Kadiri watershed) is pretty far off the track from the outside world and the people I see every day never let me forget it. It’s mostly head wobbles and blank stares from the adults but the children’s reactions are priceless – everything from screams of terror to smiles, laughter and running around in circles shouting HI or BYE or random Telugu phrases I have no hope of understanding.
Enjoy the pics!

Kolkata to Kerala

Big yellow taxi

After our expensive entrance into the dirty little border town of Raxual, (see previous post,) we boarded a train heading east to the capital of West Bengal and the old colonial capital of India – Calcutta (Kolkata). Our arrival was yet another surreal 6am wakeup in unknown surroundings but we were quickly awed by the fleet of yellow Ambassadors, (part soviet tank, part Rolls Royce,) waiting to take us over the landmark Howrah bridge to our A/C hotel.

Green orange juice

I’ve heard of double parking, but this is ridiculous.

1970′s Miami?

After a brief nap, shower and regroup we set out on am ambitious walking tour, hoping to see the real Kolkata in between the tourist stops and old colonial buildings. We drank juice made with sweet green oranges (can they still be called oranges? maybe they’re limes…) and walked through hundreds of of stalls, selling everything from plastic slippers (sandals) to tax law textbooks. Between the palm trees and art-deco architechture (see fire hall – above), it sometimes feels like stepping into 1970′s Miami with flood of Indian immigrants. Then you see a man ride past on a bicycle with 20 live chickens and remember – this is most definitely not Miami.

20 live chickens on a bike… I’ll never complain about paniers again.

Who wants to go for a ride?

We walked and walked, but even ice cream in an A/C restaurant wasn’t enough to allow us to survive the heat so we hopped an Ambassador back to New Market for some shopping. By late afternoon we were ready to amble back down to the Victoria Monument for sunset and marvelled at the simple beauty of India’s second most beautiful building reflecting in pools of Bengali sun. Finally, we sampled of local delicacies for dinner – fish and prawn curries, followed by a well deserved rest.

Victoria Monument

The next day had us waking up well before sunrise and racing to the airport for our journey south to the promised land of tropical beaches and surf in Kerala. We arrived at 10am in Thiruvananthapuram, (thankfully known by it’s colonial name of Trivandrum,) and immediately set off for the cliff top beach town of Varkala. Happily, April is summer and the off-season here, so hotel managers are chasing us around offering lower and lower prices for rooms. We meet a nice guy named Lucky, and settle into one of his quiet little rooms for Rs 300 ($6) a night. We’ve got a hammock, a mosquito net, and the sounds of surf… life is good.

Lefts, lefts, who wants to surf lefts? (Evan?)

Sunrise barrels

With no real plans other than max chillin’, I found the best of the 6 rental surfboards available in town and we took off exploring the local breaks. The beach under the cliff is a heavy closeout-only zone, but a friendly Dutchman pointed us north to a point break at “the green mosque” that sounded intriguing. At 6am I ventured up the beach and found a green mosque with a narrow little beach and surf pounding into rocks. The break doesn’t seem surf-able, so I turn around and fight the closeout waves at Varkala beach for the rest of the morning.

Another ubiquitous green mosque

Always turn left.

Later, it becomes apparent that every mosque in the area is green, and the following of Islam is strong in Kerala. We finally decide that we need some help and contact the nice folks at Soul & Surf, a local surf and yoga lodge, who took us in their sea-foam green jeep to a beautiful little point break further up the coast. Many waves were slayed and we returned to the spot on our own the next day with rented scooter and board.

Racing the canoe

mid-fail. PS – the blue board IS NOT mine.

As the swell dropped we headed up the coast to check out the Keralan backwaters. Much of the coast is dotted with freshwater lakes, which have since been connected by canals giving it a laid back Venice-feel with palm trees and tropical wildlife. We spent the afternoon slowly punting through palm plantations and fish ponds, drinking fresh coconut water and getting a feel for tropical life. Then it’s back on the scooter to Varkala, only to pack and move south to Kovalam Beach.

Palm-tree lampshade hangout in Kollum

Who’s up for a game of garbage-cricket?

Backwaters life

lily-pond jumpin’

Crazy for coco-nuts

Kingfisher

Easyglide canoe

Depressingly, this is Caroline’s last stop in India and we celebrate/mourn the event by splurging on our hotel room with A/C, a huge comfy bed and a balcony with sea view, (of yet another green mosque.) We rent a surfboard for the next morning and gorge on fresh seafood and cold beer. The surf isn’t much better than the pounding I got at Varkala beach, so we return the board and alternate bodysurfing and soaking up rays on the beautiful beaches.

Fresh coconut is the drink champions

Another green mosque with angry surf

Kovalam Lighthouse

Such a pretty lady…

Not sure about this one… maybe he’s fed up with the world of business?

After more amazing food and some last minute shopping it’s time for Caroline to head to the airport where the impatient taxi driver ensures that our goodbye doesn’t last long enough to be (overly) sad. He then drops me alone at the train station and leaves me to find my way to Bangalore and the start of an entirely different trip – my internship with the Foundation for Ecological Security.

Elephant train care center

IR loves CHAI, CHAI, CHAI, CHAI, CHAI

Headed west – alone.

Nepal – The Rest

Pokhara to Kathmandu

After the chaos and cacophony of India, Nepal is like a warm-bath dream. The people are warm and friendly with a never-ending Namasté on their lips. We were constantly approached by strangers hoping to try out their english and were asked thousands of versions of the simple questions with the same simple answers… Canada, (destination), Sterling. With that in mind, Nepali culture is extremely western-friendly and was some of the easiest and most care-free travelling we’ve done – apart from the twisting roads, of course.

We wanted to maximize our time so we spent a whopping $30 on visa extensions and rented a sweet little motorbike to explore the local foothills. Then it was off to Kathmandu, the largest city in Nepal and home to most of its people. The scale of the city is a little daunting after weeks of village life, but we did some serious walking (now that we’re all trained up…) and covered most of the city, even managing to take in a movie (Hunger Games – in English!) and relax with a full beer each (served in the bottle, not a teapot!). To find some spirituality, we visited a monastery high above the city and performed a ritual walkabout at the Boudinath Stupa before finishing with a noisy electrical storm. The next day is a 12 hour bus ride and goodbye to Nepal.

We arrived at the Indian customs office at around 8:30pm on the back of a donkey-cart. It seems cliché but the bureaucrat in the office is trying to deny us entry, despite the fact that our double entry visa is stamped “Permitted to enter the country within 2 months of the last visit”. He argues strongly that he doesn’t understand and can’t allow us in. OK – so how much did we bribe him? NPR 3000 or about $40 CAD. We feared that this was an appropriate entrance back into India but hoped that we were wrong.

Nepal – The Way Down

Day 6 – ABC to Bamboo

I awake at 6 to the sound of heavy mountaineering boots stomping by on the snow-covered boardwalk outside. I perform a well-practiced sleeping-bag change, grab my camera and step out in the brilliant morning alpenglow. The clouds are long-gone and the massive 8091m peak of Annapurna I is the first to reflect the suns rays. As the light works its way down the walls and finally strikes the glacier and ABC, numb hands pull cameras from cases and the air is filled with shutter clicks and frozen breath.

After consuming the most expensive tea and porridge breakfast of the trip we start back down the moraine, dropping layers faster than we drop elevation. By the time we reach MBC, the sun has baked the fresh snow into corn and we’re happy to disappear into the deep shadow of Machhupuchhare. Down is was easier than up, and we race over slippery rocks and avalanche chutes and are past Deurali by 10:30.

A steady afternoon of descending brings us back to Bamboo and leaves us with a decision… Thanks to an outdated Lonely Planet and the dramatically rising cost of food and accommodation near ABC, we are running low on funds and may not have enough to enjoy the rest of our journey. Not wanting to have to alter our plans, I managed to barter my winter boots for tonights’ room and board for us AND Miriam. Let us make a deal, my friend! This saves us enough cash to be able to finish our trip in style and we plan on heading west towards to the ever-popular Poon Hill.

Day 7 – Bamboo to Chuile

We break camp by 8 and curse the hot morning sun while waving goodbye to the lodge owner in his new boots. The trail down through Sinewa in full of beautiful views back up the valley and we spend as much time walking backwards as forwards. As we crest the ridge and Chhomrong comes into view and we are deflated by the previously mentioned wall of steps. Miriam has tramped ahead and we see a tiny figure trudging slowly up the far side that crushes our spirits further.

After a quick dip in the river, we force ourselves up what can only be described as the hottest and worst 500m of the trip. As we finally haul ourselves onto a restaurant terrace dozens of Himalayan Griffons and Eagles appear, apparently disappointed that the exhausted-looking tourists made it up alive.

We recharge and part ways with our Kiwi friend, heading west towards our next destination, Chuile. The afternoon is even hotter with succulents and shrubs replacing the shade-giving forests of this morning. Another four hours of slow progress makes this our longest day yet and we thank the appropriate gods for food and rest.

Day 8 – Chuile to Ghorepani

The valley is filled with a light mist that is just opaque enough to obscure the mountains. The morning climb puts us up to Tadapani as the haze lifts and we get a new spectacular perspective of Annapurna South and Hiun Chuli.

The morning air is alive with birdsong and the dense rhododendron forest is in full bloom. The trail drops back into a tight valley and the hot sun only rarely penetrates the lush canopy. We make slow progress as I stop to snap the abundance of flora and fauna, and then movement catches my eye high up the cliff above. Langurs! A whole troop of the black-and-white monkeys have apparently made their home on the cliffs of the same colour and we caught them just as they are leaving to forage.

After lunch under another cliff at Ban Thanti, the trail follows a babbling series of waterfalls up into what can only be an enchanted forest. We clamber up and over another 3200m pass to be marvelled by wispy but dense clouds racing up one valley and flowing into the one we just came from. We follow the rhododendron ridge down to Ghorepani and prepare ourselves for a pre-dawn assault of Poon Hill.

Day 9 – Poon Hill, Ghorepani to Nayapul

A steep 5am climb is not the most comfortable way to wake up, but even the grouchiest morning person will be moved by the sight of early morning sun hitting rival 8000m peaks. As the sun rises, light cascades down a broad swath of some of the most impressive mountains in the world, the Dhaluagiri and Annapurna ranges.

Content with the views and a cup of tea, we start back down to breakfast and the long walk down. The trail between Ghorepani and Nayapul is a traditional Nepali highway – horses, donkeys, goats, porters and trekkers all vie for space on the narrow steps.

And by gods, there are lots of steps. One stretch down to Turkhedunga boats 3300 continuous thigh-burners. It’s exhausting, but we’re headed down! The trail crosses another river and starts to level out, prolonging the descent as long as possible. By the time the trail gets to Nayapul, the dominant form of transportation changes to jeep and we were caked in dust and sweat. We couldn’t catch a taxi fast enough and were soon showering in our hotel room back in Pokhara. The Annapurna Massif is an amazing mountain sanctuary, and the longer the trip, the better the shower.

Nepal – The Way Up

The A/C in my train car is a welcome relief from the oppressive heat of early summer in Kerala and will finally allow me to write in comfort. It’s hard to believe, but two weeks ago we were shivering under blankets high in the Himalayas; now I can barely remember the sensation. I do, however, remember the excitement we felt walking away from a terrible nights’ sleep in the mosquitos of Gorakpur and crossing into the Nepali border town of Sunauli.

With only loose plans to attempt the Annapurna Circuit and some winter gear left over from Kashmir, we hired a car to drive us up the new twisting road to Pokhara. After a late arrival and sleep in, we opened our eyes to an incredible vista of distant snow-covered peaks reflected off a beautiful green lake. This is the Annapurna range, and we start to get excited. We quickly realized that we had neither the time or the resources to attempt the full circumnavigation of the Annapurna Massif and its’ 5420m high Thorung-la pass, but had heard a great many things about the hike into Annapurna Base Camp (ABC), or, more appropriately, the Annapurna Sanctuary.

Day 1 – Phedi to Pothana

As beautiful as Pokhara is, we couldn’t wait to leave. We did some last-minute provisioning and paid some hefty “park” fees, and hired a car to take us out to Phedi, and the beginning of 9 days of relentless hiking. The paths are steep, and solidly built with fitted slate stones quarried during the construction of the trail. The workmanship is clean and smooth, allowing for a confident stride up the thousands of steps. Soon our ambitious stride slows to a lumbering step and we started to take in our surroundings. Green terraces are cut into both sides of the valley and strive to turn steep hillsides into food for the villagers that work them. The Rhododendron forest we hike through provides welcome shade, as the valley bottom we’re climbing from was easily 25-30 deg C in mid-March (interesting fact: Nepal is at roughly the same latitude as Egypt or Florida, yet Himalaya means “home of snow”). Local villages are strung along the paths at regular intervals – usually 2 or 3 kilometres up or down, never across, and our first day rises over 1000m to Dhampus and Pothana, but overcast skies hide the snow-capped mega-peaks that allegedly surround us.

Day 2 – Pothana to Jhinu Danda

After having the tea and porridge breakfast that will become our staple, we hiked up and over a pass leading to Tokla and a string of small terrace villages filled with smiling, happy faces. With the sun punching occasionally through the cloud, I start to notice a wavering shine to the stones in the path and realize that I’m walking on plates of mica, a beautifully reflective silver mineral. We then drop down into the valley and cross the Modi Khola – the mighty river that drains the heart of the Annapurna Massif. Up another steep wall of stairs and we stagger into Jhinu Danda, devour dinner and decent back down to an amazing natural hot spring complex stuck into the rocks at the rivers edge. We’ve only been hiking for 2 days but the muscles are sore and happy to be soaked and stretched.

Day 3 – Jhinu to Bamboo

The hike from Jhinu up to Chhromrong is as steep as the climb that ended yesterday, but longer and harder despite our rejuvenated spirits. The clouds finally part and we get our first taste of the magnitude of the mountains that surround us, they are still many kilometres away but are already imposing themselves on the sky. Chhomrong is the entrance the Annapurna Sanctuary Conservation Area, a paradise of mountains, snow and a complete lack of plastic bottles.

The trail then drops steeply back into the valley and we see it rise again on the other side, shuddering slightly at the thought of having to return back up these steps, but worry is easily forgotten in favour of jaw-dropping mountain scenery and untouched forests of rhododendron, oak and bamboo, the latter of which happens to be the name of our destination. In these protected valleys, birds hurl their songs across rivers, orchids cling to oak trunks and Himalayan Langurs tentatively peer through foliage before vanishing in a leap. While Bamboo is only 500m higher than Jhinu, the path climbs 1300m and descends another 800m, leaving us exhausted. As the sun sets, the evening cloud momentarily parts allowing for a lensful of an bright orange Machhapuchhare, the sacred and unclimbed 7000m fin of rock known as the “fish tail”.

Day 4 – Bamboo to Deurali

The foreboding clouds of the night before were a sign and I wake with a terrible sickness. I would suspect Acute Mountain Sickness (AMS) but my stomach doesn’t agree. Breakfast is sips of tea and a few spoonfuls of porridge, unhappily followed by another 1000m of staring at my feet – willing one slowly in front of the other. Deurali is socked in and the lodges are full, but it feels like we’re on the edge of something incredible.

Day 5 – Deurali to ABC

A strict diet of antibiotics and “Gastro-Stop” has apparently cured me, but the illness has drained my energy. Thankfully, the lemon tea and crisp mountain air clear my head and my feet move slowly but confidently. The trail snakes along the narrow valley bottom bounded by Machhupuchhare on the right and a 6441m wall known as Hiun Chuli on the left. As we leave Deurali, we are rewarded with clear views of Gangapurna and Tare Kang (Glacier Dome) with snow blowing from their 7000m peaks off into space. These white monsters look like party crashers in the lush forest but we quickly leave the bamboo behind and climb into a land of snow and rock where the mountains ARE the party.

By midday we reach Machhupuchhare Base Camp  (MBC) at 3700m and finally get to see up the dog-leg valley into the heart of the Annapurna Massif. South Annapurna is directly ahead with the mighty 8091m Annapurna I looming over everything. As we leave MBC under the South Annapurna Glacier moraine we marvel at some ski tracks on the north face of Hiun Chuli before the afternoon clouds roll in and the snow starts to fall. We reach Annapurna Base Camp (ABC) and throw our packs down, exhausted at 4130m. We are reunited with our tramping Kiwi friend Miriam at the Snowlands Lodge and are the only three guests booked in for the night. This seems surprising until the lightning storm starts to rage outside and brings with it graupel and shivering porters in garbage-bag rain shells. The low rumble of ice and rock are falling in the mountains around us only stops when we retreat into sleeping bag cocoons and fall asleep.

…part 2 will be up soon!

The UP’s and Downs of India – Agra, Khajuraho & Varanasi

Uttar Pradesh (UP) is arguably the most influential and populous state in India, boasting well over 200 million people; however, this figure doesn’t even include the 20-40% of the population who don’t have the means to record births or deaths. In Aravind Adiga’s book “White Tiger”, he refers to the regions touched by the black mud of the Mother Ganga (the Ganges River) as “the darkness”, as the the sprawling population supports mass poverty, corruption and illiteracy, and is a stronghold of  the caste system and some of the more archaic Hindu cultural traditions. It is also home to some of India’s most iconic locales, and we planned to visit the Taj Mahal, the Chandelan temples of Khajuraho, (technically just over the border into Madhya Pradesh,) and the ancient holy city of Varanasi.

Pulling a classic tourist move, we arrived on Friday morning by train to the city of Agra, home of the great achievement of Mughal marble architecture. The move is classically tourist, as Friday is the Muslim holy day of rest and the mosque on site made sure the mighty Taj was closed. After we worked through our shock and disappointment, we conceded to take in the best of what Agra had to offer on our only day in the city. The “Baby Taj” was a precursor to it’s younger sibling down the river and seemed a good place to start. The layout of the grounds of both buildings are based on ancient architectural traditions that value symmetry and the result is truly appealing to the eye, but the real beauty of these buildings is in the detail.

The Baby Taj

Marble Triangles

The amount of marble used in construction is tremendous and the gemstone marble inlays that surround and fill the mausoleums took thousands of lifetimes and employed specialized labour from across Europe and Asia. After relaxing at the Baby Taj, we crossed the Ganges and had our chance to gaze across at one of the great marvels of India. While disappointed that we didn’t get to inspect it first-hand, we valued the $30 we saved in entrance fees and had a casual afternoon observing it from across the Yamuna River – a tributary of the Ganges. The scale and grandeur of the Taj Mahal seems indescribable through words or pictures, as it is more of a presence than a building complex.

The Taj & Yamuna

The work involved in it’s construction and the Mughal Emperor Shah Jehan’s motivation for building it (as a tomb for one of his beloved wives who died during her 14th childbirth,) only add to the grandeur. We also managed to sneak in a trip to the Red Fort, also an impressive piece of architecture and sordid history, before we headed back to the tourist grotto for a Taj sunset with dinner, beers and some new friends from the UK. Despite the persistent touts and heavy smog, our day in Agra was a success (and Scott, we managed to avoid the gem scams!)

The train to Khajuraho dumped us unceremoniously on the platform at 6 the next morning and left us groggy until a mid-morning nap. When we awoke again, the air was clean and we had a chance to peruse the (relatively) quiet streets and bike through the rolling countryside visiting the intricately carved temples that Khajuraho is known for.

The temples are fairly small compared to their more recent counterparts, but every inch of their surface is carved with delicate scenes of daily life such as elephants, labour, worship, and the real reason Khajuraho is famous… sex. Thankfully, the first western prudes to see these temples didn’t have the means or foresight to destroy the works, leaving them a well preserved and restored world heritage site. After wandering the erotic temples, we made our way north to the Panna Tiger Reserve in hopes of scaring up some big cats. Thankfully, our disappointment of not seeing stripes was overshadowed by the abundance of spotted deer and sambar, as well as peacock, crocodile, Hanuman langurs, a variety of colourful kingfishers and an asiatic black bear, aka “moon bear”, which looks like a black bear with a light grey face. Next time tigers… next time.

Another train and another destination – Beneras, now known as Varanasi, and arguably the oldest continuously inhabited city in the world. While there is some debate over the truth behind that claim, the narrow winding streets, (more like alleys,) veritably reek of history – not to mention garbage and human/bovine waste. The ghats, or steps down to the Ganges, have seen their share of history and humanity as well, as the Ganges is scared to Hindu’s that come here to break the cycle of death and rebirth – dying in Varanasi is a direct ticket to heaven and the cost of that ticket is weighed out in the bundles of firewood it takes to cremate a body on the ghats. The city is also a haven for sadhu’s, or holy men, who make the pilgrimage here from all corners of the Hindu world to pray and smoke ganja.

On a daily walk along the ghats it is common to see nearly every aspect of daily Hindu life, from worship and prayer to washing clothes and water buffalos, from stoned sahdus to camera-waving tourists, and from wailing infants to grieving families scouring pockets for more money for firewood. Varanasi is an ultimate example of the best and worst of humanity. Life and death, commerce (aka – tourist scams) and religious devotion all happen simultaneously in an explosion of the senses. Colourful sadhus next to blood-red sari-clad mothers, rotten vegetables and deep fried sweets, pale sunrises and the cool stones of the ghats all mingle with garbage to express the complexity of human experience. Looking back on our days in Varanasi, and India in general as we head north to Nepal, I see high speed flashes of these intense experiences, both sweet and sour, but always extremely human and unforgettable.