It had rained through the night in Ghermu, and continued past sunrise when Gauthier joined Takeshi and I in our room, and we reluctantly considered starting our hike regardless. We headed downstairs for breakfast, and I ordered the customary teahouse breakfast set: scrambled eggs, potatoes, warm Tibetan bread served with honey, and a bowl of porridge all washed down with a cup of black tea. Luckily, the rain subsided just after we finished eating. We packed our things, settled the bill, and headed out on the high route to Jagat. Though the three of us were just strangers the day before, we were now a unit, and together set out to attempt a difficult yet dreamy route through clouds and remote mountain villages, with the famed hot springs of Jagat waiting for us at the end of the road.
Gauthier
The trail began by winding up through the lush green rice terraces around the back side of the teahouse, and crossing a deep ravine by a swaying bridge made of cable wire. The official route to Jagat follows a featureless service road straight along the river, and would only take a couple of hours. Gauthier had convinced us the night before that it was well worth taking the more difficult high route, which meandered sharply up the other side of the valley, including a steep 850-meter ascent before dropping down into Jagat. All morning we trudged forward and upward in single file: Gauthier in the lead, eyes to the ground, finding feathers, porcupine quills, and other prizes in the dirt, myself following with my eyes to the sky, hoping to catch glimpses of the distant peaks towering over the valley and rising up through blankets of cloud, and Takeshi bringing up the rear, softly trotting along arms folded and smoking his cigarettes.
Jagat seen from Taliochipla. The normal route follows the service road seen on the left. We took a more difficult route, that climbed up and over the side of the mountain seen on the right
The rest of the day truly felt like something out of an epic adventure film. We passed through a high and vertical village called Taliochipla, from which we could glimpse Jagat far on the other side of the valley, before finding ourselves at the bottom of a steep, winding stair. We now began the most difficult stage of the day, an 850-meter ascent of stairs cut out of rock so steep it felt just like Cirith Ungol from Lord of the Rings. The switchback stair was treacherously exposed in places, so we took our time, as the stairs were still a bit slick from the rain.
Gauthier working his way up the switchback stair
After reaching the top, we continued upward, but less dramatically, soon to find ourselves above the clouds, and seemingly passing into another world. It started to drizzle lightly, so I put my jacket back on, and Gauthier took out his poncho. The light blue poncho was long enough that it completely covered Gauthier’s backpack and shorts, and was a color that resembled that of a hospital gown. And so Gauthier, with his thick beard, long red hair, bare legs and blue poncho stretched over his pack, looked the part of a hunchbacked Irishman freshly escaped from an insane asylum. We continued upward, picking our way through thick grasses of gold and green, and large weathered rocks. There was a sea of mist below us, and the walls of the valley towered over us from either side, until the point where they became lost in the uppermost layer of clouds. With the rain becoming more of a nuisance, we asked directions from a local shepherd who was tending his flock of goats along our path. We followed in the direction he gestured, reaching a small schoolhouse on the outskirts of the village of Mathilo Chipla. The rain grew increasingly fierce as we entered the village, and so we took shelter under a bamboo awning to sit and wait it out.
After a bit of time waiting out the rain, a villager approached us with a smile, and helped lead us down to Jagat by the most direct route available. We followed the man in single file out of the village through the rain, down a steep landscape of more terraced rice fields. The man left us on the edge of the field, which sharply dropped down to a spot on the opposite bank of the river from Jagat. Deciding against a steep descent in the rain, we sat under a tin shelter that must have served livestock, as tatters of straw and cow shit were scattered underneath. There was enough room for us each to stand, but we elected to sit and wait it out, with a steady rhythm of raindrops pelting the roof above us. We were good and soaked, and growing cold from standing still, so Takeshi pulled a stove out of his bag, as well as some instant coffee. We grabbed what little amount of dry kindling we could find around us (the shit included), and when that wasn’t enough to light a fire, we tore pages out of books we had been carrying. I contributed a few non-essential pages from Walden by Thoreau, which I had picked up in Chiang Mai the week prior, and still wasn’t making much progress on, to be honest. We finally had a strong enough flame going to brew up a large cup of coffee to sip as we warmed ourselves.
Outskirts of Mathilo Chipla
We began our last descent of the day after a long wait under the shelter. Gauthier and I were feeling immense pain in both of our knees, thanks to the steep ascent earlier in the day. He and I descended into Jagat as if we were old men, hobbling around extremely slowly with our walking sticks, while old Takeshi managed the slope with ease and without any type of staff for support. Gauthier showed me a technique of climbing down backwards, where you look as if you’re about to make your way up the slope, but move downward, head turned around to watch your steps, while you extend walking sticks out in front of your body blindly for balance. It was very awkward at first, but the technique resulted in a lot less pressure on my knees. I didn’t mind hiking all day, as long as we were going up, and not going down, which is considerably more painful as every heavy footfall downward sends a shock through the body amplified by the weight of everything carried on your back.
Pancha and Duli
We ended up descending to a point below Jagat, and then taking the suspension bridge across the river, where we could then climb up into the village itself. We were looking for a teahouse along the main road ten minutes outside of the village, near which the owners had built hot springs. And so we came to Nepali Kitchen Guesthouse, owned by Pancha and Duli Gurung. We appeared to be their only guests, and they treated us like family (they thought Takeshi was Nepali upon first glance as well, which had quickly become a running joke of the trek). Pancha is also a schoolteacher in Jagat, and was the most welcoming and easy-going of hosts. After we had settled in, he threw a few beers and some snacks into a backpack and personally led us down to the hot springs he had built years before. It felt so refreshing to finally be walking without the burden I had grown accustomed to. I felt like I was floating across the ground with every step I took without my pack.
Where we slept at Nepali Kitchen Guesthouse. Our rooms were detached from the main building
Halfway along the road back to Jagat, Pancha led us to a side-footpath that dropped down to the banks of the river, where natural hot springs gushed forth into the icy current. Pancha had built up a concrete basin to hold the steaming water, and directed a stream of cold glacial water in to balance the temperature. The sun had finally broke through the clouds, and we sat in the hot pool in complete and utter bliss. We felt as though we’d earned this moment, after a tough and soggy day on the side route. I sat with my back supported by Pancha’s immense belly, working my way to the bottom of a half liter of Nepali Ice Strong, as Pancha worked the knots out of my upper back with his hands. We shared the springs with a trio of local women, with whom Pancha was bickering playfully in their mother tongue.
“Super Strong Beer”
Before leaving, we took a lightning-fast dip in the ice-cold river after a dare from Gauthier, and then had to jump immediately back into the springs to warm ourselves again. We then dried off and hiked back up to the teahouse to order tea and dinner. The rest of the evening was spent sitting and talking with Pancha and Dilu, who are two of the sweetest people I had met on my journey to date. Both have a wonderful sense of humor, are quick to smile, and have the most infectious laughs - heads thrown back with a booming howl that made me want to do the same. We shared stories late into the night before heading to bed. I ended up waking before dawn in need of a piss, and was surprised to find a clear sky overhead for the first time since landing in Nepal. I grabbed my camera and Gauthier’s headlamp, and found a spot along the road to take some photos of the stars.
Pancha with the generous offer of a hot-spring-back-massage
Gauthier in rain gear