Manaslu and Tsum Valley Trek

I wasn't sure if trekking was for me, but instead of dipping my toes in to see how the water was I cannon balled into the deep end with a 3 week long trek.

Escape the crowds, get off the beaten path, and visit some down right remote areas of Nepal. These were my thoughts for choosing this particular trek -the Manaslu and Tsum Valley Circuit. It's a restricted area trek requiring permits, guides, and a bit of red tape; which thankfully keep the hordes of trekkers like the 10 000 or so that hike the Everest Base Camp trek every October to a minimum.

I've never been challenged more both physically and mentally in my life. But with sacrifice comes reward, and the rewards reaped from this adventure won't soon be forgotten. Not even close.

How can I describe how cold it was some nights? The water bottle next to my sleeping bag froze solid one night in Dharmsala, a ramshackle outpost of tents and stone walled rooms, your last "guesthouse" before crossing the 5160m Larke Pass.

If I said I was awoken by mice crawling over my sleeping bag more than once you'd think I was nuts.....that's a vacation? Damn right it is. The veranda of the Gumba Lundang monastery I slept in made up for the uninvited creepy crawlers, as did the back drop of the Ganesh Himal range which occupied my field of vision like an Imax screen. A 7400m range of jagged rock and ice that seemed so close you couldn't help but wave your hand in front of your face to try and touch it.

The majority of this trek takes you along the Beri river, up and down precarious stone pathways with hundred meter sheer drops next to you seemingly the entire time. We added on an 8 day permit to trek the restricted area called Tsum Valley, a beautiful stretch of fertile land curtained on both sides by 6000m peaks. 'Tsum' comes from the Tibetan word 'Tsombo', which simply means 'Vivid'. It's a pretty fair word to describe this area of Nepal I reckon. Even a violent bout of food poisoning didn't deter me from enjoying this valley full of friendly Tibetan villages and wild pot plants as far as the eye could see.

In a rather extended chat with a couple of young villagers toiling their fields, I couldn't help but ask what they were growing. The almost perfectly lined seedlings of marijuana sprouting from the parched dry earth was my main reason for asking.

"Barley!" he said.

"You like Ganza?"  He replied with a chuckle.

Now the conversation was going the direction I wanted.

Long story short, I asked what their views were towards the plant, and whether or not they smoked the stuff. In a nutshell he told me as a kid their parents always told them not to, it was always said to be wrong - 'very bad stuff' were his words. To my surprise he also strung together a phrase in broken English that I immediately understood and related to; that being the irony of home brewed Raksi (rice/barley wine) and cheap booze flooding the valley from the nearby border of China run Tibet caused more problems than marijuana could ever do.

No matter how far away from home you are, some things just don't change.

This was my first ever over night trek, and I can't help but feel a bit of pride completing 20 damn days straight of it. Although the majority of it wasn't exactly in high altitude conditions, I like to think I did -even if only for a day- walk in the shoes of a real mountaineer. Crossing the Larke Pass requires at least 7-8 hours, and you don't want to be caught at 5200m in November anytime in the late afternoon. So that means lacing up your boots and walking in the blistering cold & ungodly hour of 4:30am. I might as well have been climbing Everest for that 90 mins before the sun came up; I actually thought my nose was going to fall off from frost bite.

I gained a new appreciation for a sport that no one really acknowledges- Mountaineering. These super humans who do this in exponentially worse conditions than I was subjected to are the toughest of the tough as far as I'm concerned, because I sure as hell don't ever want to experience that level of cold again!

Crossing the last suspension bridge into Dharapani, 19 days after setting foot on the trail, my eyes locked onto the first motorised vehicle I had seen in almost 3 weeks. I yelled at the top of my lungs in glee, the trek was finally over. In another 24 hours I'd be in a jeep back into civilisation.

Fast forward a few days, I now realise the bitter part of my sweet ending takes a little time to settle in. I'm back in Kathmandu dodging motorbikes, inhaling exhaust fumes, and telling touts to leave me alone.

As much as I wanted the trek to just be over, I'm already day dreaming of my next one. Not before I see what else this country has on offer though :)