Dan Mazur's Kangchenjunga Spring 2002

12 April Dispatch: We rose early to beautiful weather, ate a delicious breakfast, and enjoyed a peaceful and gentle walk along the Tamur River. We crossed a few rickety swinging cable bridges along the way, providing spectacular views and some vertigo. We left the river, turning left around 1100 am, and began walking up the Ghunsa kola, a gorgeous semitropical valley. We stopped to wash and bathe and shave and rinse our clothing a beautiful boulder strewn cascade in the midday sun. Three of our lady Gurung porters stopped and shyly watched our water-rites, and Kipa, one of our two cooks, persuaded each of them to take a lemon biscuit. We continued walking, and we arrived at the grass and wood hut of Sekathom at 1750 meters in the beautiful Ghunsa kola valley. We were near out of the tropics, now and the banana trees were gone, and there were many oaks and the beginnings of a hemlock pine forest. The time of arrival at Sekathom was 1230 PM, and we celebrated our early day by sharing a Pepsi with our Nepalese grad student friends. We put up our tents, one for each member and two shared by the staff, and crawled inside to enjoy a bit of a rest, after many days of hard work. It began to rain, and the birds of the forest sang, and flew, and cackled and whistled. Our porters relaxed and sheltered under the eves of the grass hut. Many of them were wearing the plastic sheets we had given them. 5 porters decided to go down, for unknown reasons, and we paid them for their work. In the evening, it stopped raining, and we enjoyed our dinner under a tiny pole structure, sitting on benches  at a plank table, beneath a corrugated roof, listening to the last drops of water falling, looking out at the smoky-foggy twilight, and relaxing in the roar of the ghunsa kola, calling us up to basecamp. We wondered what the next days would bring, as we dropped off to sleep at about 2030.

13 April Dispatch: After another early rise and tasty breakfast, we began our walk up the steep climb to Amjilassa at 2600 meters. We followed the north wall of the Ghunsa kola valley, and enjoyed a spectacularly beautiful and airy-green hike far above the river, along the valley walls. At times, the path wound through bamboo thickets, and another times under flowering ash trees. In sheltered coves and nooks where stream crosses had curved gulleies, the trail passed into a cool ravine, at other times, we were baked by the sun, or parched by the wind. We met some 50 year old Spanish trekkers who were fairly running down the trail, and the greeted us with a tiny "Hola", and then they where past, like the wind. Their Nepalese guide, however, stopped long enough for a polite chat with Kaji, our sirdar, and he passed a note, given by our separated team members. The note had been written the day before in Ghunsa, in Nepalese by Tek, who had been hired by Mark Bryant, and was accompanying the group of Mark Bryant, Mike Farris, Stuart Findlay, Chris Grasswick, and Ian Lloyd. The note, as translated from the Nepalese, said that everyone was fine in Ghunsa, and that Stuart and Chris had gone on, to try and reach basecamp. It also said that Tek had forgotten his head torch a t a lodge in Gyapla, and would we please pick it up. We were pleased to hear that our friends were well, and were looking forward to seeing them soon, after so many days. Finally, at 1300pm, we rounded a large swollen ridge, dropping  far below to the ghunsa kola, and we stumbled into the tiny hamlet of terraces and plank huts that is Amjilassa. It was warm and beautiful, and we put our tents on one of the uncultivated terraces that had been reserved for camping, and we gazed out into the lovely view of the sharply cut valleys, pearled with waterfalls, and the sweeping green hills, rising to snowy jagged rocky little peaks, and looking away to the west, the tiers of hills and ranges merging away and into the horizon, look so much of an eye-level washboard. All 80 of our porters finally reached us at twilight, and it truly had been a difficult day for them, with quite a steep elevation gain. Still, we hung out inside the mud and grass hut and ate our dinners while the porters gazed, on, some of them munching their own concoctions of dal bhat, others crunching the uncooked contents of instant-noodles packets with chili powder sprinkled on, and still others staring listlessly at us foreigners eating, watching every mysterious forkful of well-prepared but strange dinner pass into our mouths and be chewed. As the evening wore on toward 2000pm, our porters began to roll out blankets and mats and pieces of burlap on the floor, while us foreigners finished our tea, and we observed a few hilarious scenes of horseplay, as the porters tugged blankets from one another and seven of them, trying to pile into one bed, became engaged in a kind of heated pillow-fight, involving fists. It became obvious that they all didn't carry blankets, which was a bit of a surprise, as they were mostly sherpas, and used to the cooling temperatures of evening and the colder seasons. In any case, we left them to their own devices, and stumbled off to our own sleeping bags in our individual tents soon enough. 

14 April Dispatch: The porters nearly set off before finished reorganizing some of our loads, then we finished sunrise salutations and breakfast on our heavenly peaceful and green terrace, before packing up our lunches in our rucksacks and heading off. Today's trail continued along the Ghunsa kola valley, only this time not climbing up quite so high, and only staying down in the thickening hemlock, pine, and bamboo forests, dotted with the occasional budding magnolia and rhododendrons, with the first few white blooms braving the spring air. We walked up a steep forest path behind a slow heard of zopkiok (yak-cow-hybrid), herded by their Ghunsa herders, chucking rocks, and bellowing AAEEEYYYEAHHH every few seconds, interspersed with Tibetan songs and chants. In a few minutes, the thick forest opened onto a slope, and we suddenly stepped onto a grassy plain, dotted with a few split-plank houses, and we followed to a small guest house, and it looked comfortable enough, and everyone voted to try sleeping inside in the dormitory rooms, rather than pitching tents. This was the village of Gyapla, at 3000 meters. It became misty and dark, and the porters came in, looking a bit more comfortable than yesterday. All of the members and most of the porters were  lounging in the ground floor room of the lodge, and some of our Sherpa staff found a one of those double-ended Nepalese drums hanging on the wall, and started to bang it haphazardly. Eventually, one of the porters took over, and the banging became more rhythmic, then Ang Galu Sherpa, one of our cook boy/apprentice sherpas, broke into song, and then another porter or two jumped out on the floor and began dancing and swinging wildly, and then one of our porter women, who was a Sherpani, shyly minced out on the floor, and then began twirling in unison (though never touching) with Kipa Sherpa, one of our cooks. The audience, perhaps 70 strong, started clapping to the beat, and the dancers were encouraged and the drummer and singer really put their hearts into it, and gave everyone a fantastic show, to much cheering and shouting. Even the young porter woman's father, who was also one of our porters, was enjoying the show, and after the song and drumming finally faded away, he looked proudly around at the audience, as if to say, "That is my offspring, and look how well we are in our family". Finally our dinner came, and we ate hungrily, as some of the porters, emboldened in our new camaraderie, tried to engage us in simple conversation and jokes. We were becoming friends with these hill dwellers. We all climbed the rickety stairway to sleep that night, smiling and laughing at the thoughts of the day. 

15 April Dispatch: It was an early morning, as the porters were eager to depart, as this was to be our day of arrival in Ghunsa, where we knew many of the porters were going to leave us. We all hiked away from camp, feeling rested. Paul's stomach was fortunately recovered, and he was feeling well again. We walked through long stretches of hemlocks and pine, with an under story of still-sleeping rhododendron, and got behind another herd of burdened Zopkiok. We climbed steep gravel-eroded trails through wet brush, and finally came to a cleft in the cliff, topped by a massive gneiss boulder about 30 centimeters over our heads. It was like we were walking through a door way, and the boulder was the lintel. The Zo's barely fit through the cleft, but they acted as if they knew how to navigate it, and had probably done so hundreds of times. This doorway was the famous "phale gate" and marked the point at which we were officially leaving the Nepalese lowlands, and entering the Kangchenjunga highlands, where the people were really more Tibetan than they were Nepalese. The trail rose into open-cleared fields, and we were in the Tibetan village of Phale, a settlement of recently escaped (last 50 years) Tibetan refugees. They had their brightly colored carpets out drying on the fences, and the potato fields were freshly planted. Their plank houses on the hemlock trunk legs leaned at interesting angles, and many were shuttered, as this town was also a winter village for the higher hamlets of Ghunsa and Kambachen. As we walked through the town of perhaps 70 houses, we passed the Phale Gompa, and we mumbled a few prayers as we passed the fluttering prayer flags and respectfully passed heaps of simple mani-stones in a clockwise fashion. The village ended at a shiny new hand-hewn bridge, and we crossed a babbling creek, and suddenly we were back in a flat forest of large and beautiful cedars, hemlocks, junipers, and pines, with the ever present undergrowth of sleeping Rhododendron. Excited to be at our destination, the kilometers dragged on a bit, but finally, we could see the valley broaden out again, and the walls of the canyon were topped by snow and rock ramparts, and we saw the river again coming up alongside the trail, and we could even see a bridge to the other side, where Ghunsa lay. Suddenly, about every 100 meters or so, we were being accosted by Ghunsa kids, speaking smatterings of English, saying: "Please stay at our guest house, very nice, you like". After several of these children put us on the spot as to where we were going to stay, we stopped discussing the subject with them, but rather changed it to: "What is your name? Do you go to school? What class are you in?" The kids seemed to enjoy discussing this as much as the guesthouse situation, so it became a nice diversion for everyone. Eventually, we crossed the bridge and climbed the last hill up the Ghunsa kola riverbank and entered the town of Ghunsa at 3450 meters. Ghunsa is a village of perhaps 100 plank houses on tree stumps, located in a broad tree lined valley of potato fields. It has 4 guesthouses, two shops, a Gompa, school, health post, and three "streets" (really rock-strewn paths between board fences held together with twine). We walked along one, and were overjoyed to see Ian, standing in the courtyard of one of the guest houses. There were unfamiliar tents in the yard, and after warm greetings were exchanged, Ian explained that a group of Swiss might be staying the night, and they were down at the bottom of the village, trying to get on a helicopter. Ian escorted us down to the clearing at the bottom of the town, and along the way we passed a brand new police station, shockingly decimated by fire. Even the corrugated roof panels were melted and twisted into a strange sort of umbrella over half the collapsed rock walled structure.  Next to the station, a tiny Hindu temple leaned at an odd angle with its doors burst open and the Shiva lingam in the center looking quite forlorn. We learned later that one day, when the police were away in Taplejung, four people had entered the village at 8am carrying a two-liter can of kerosene and announced they were going to burn the police station, then promptly did. Then, they had gone house to house to demand that the Ghunsa residents turn over their weapons (meaning guns). With the threat of the smoldering station in front of them, they did turn over the weapons, and then the four people promptly left, and had not returned since. Well, Ian escorted us past the wreck of the police station, and then we found a group of long faced and brow furrowed Swiss trekkers standing around watching as a six seat helicopter roared to life and blasted off into the sky, scattering hats and trash in the rotor wash. They explained that one member of their trekking group was sick, and that this helicopter had landed carrying only two sick Japanese trekkers, and that they had refused to give a lift to the sick Swiss trekker. We counseled the Swiss about their members illness, and it seemed the person had pulmonary edema, and we suggested that we could help them, by giving them medicine, etcetera. The language and cultural barriers loomed large, but later, thanks to the help of Felix, we were able to suggest a strategy for evacuating their ill member without having to abandon their trek. Well, we retreated back to town and stayed at the home of the Himalaya Chengda family, who we have stayed with before. These people seem to have some status in the village, and the man of the house speaks some english. They have been helped greatly, as has the entire region, by the kind works of the Cherie Bremer Kemp and Chris Chandler families. The porters rolled in as we sipped tea, and it rapidly became apparent that they just wanted to be paid and go down, so we did so rapidly, together with the work of our Sirdar Kaji, and their porter leader Nike Sherpa. It was rather complicated, with some of them having carried single loads, double loads, 1.5 loads and 1.25 loads. But we accomplished it, and even tip the ones who had been especially nice and helpful, friendly, good dancers, drummers, or singers. We also tipped the women, the youngest, as well as the eldest among them. One 56 year old man (Dawa Sherpa) had carried 60 kilos of kerosene for 6 days, and we gave him the largest tip. We were all astounded by his strength and endurance. Three porters did stay, to gain employment in our kitchen and as kitchen porters for restocking our basecamp, and they are: Nike Sherpa, Kangdup from Ghunsa, and Matay Sherpa, an amazingly strong and hard worker. By this time we had met and reunited with Mark Bryant, Mike Farris, and Ian Lloyd, as well as Tek Bahadur Tamang. They were thrilled they would never have to eat another dal bhat, though we teased them about it, and then our cooking team produced a veritable feast, some of which we presented as a gift of good will to the Himalayan Chungda family, our hosts, and organizers of our onward journey.  It was a happy event to be together again, in this picturesque Tibetan town of Ghunsa, and the members chose to go sleep in the guesthouse, while the staff slept beneath the tarpaulins with all of the loads, over at Himalayan Chungda. Before heading to bed, we did announce very clearly that we were interested in leaving tomorrow, and would Kaji our Sirdar, and Himalayan Chungda, please locate the requisite yaks and porters so that we might depart tomorrow.

Thank you very much. Cheers for now. Yours
Sincerely, Daniel Mazur from http://www.SummitClimb.com

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