It turns out to be hard to make a choice between the appealing sceneries of the coastal road and the voluptuous curves of the asphalted ribbon that opens to the mountains of the middle of the island. At the chance of a bend, we turn on the left and dip again into the New Zealand Alps for a day. A blend of wooden houses mark the boundaries of the Arthur's Pass village. A small fistful of tourists converge here, most of them tempted by the ascent of the 1000m-overhead Avalanche peak.
The next morning, we start the ascent. Some portions liken more to rock-climbing than trekking and require a high caution. The climb seems endless. The calves burn and the water leaks through our pores to cool down the machine. Our eyes look upwards and hope for a little bit of flat land at the end of the visible path. But, after a curve, the nature makes fun of us and keeps on with an even more difficult slope. The ascent goes on and on. Then, the continuity of the forest suddenly ends and a barren hill, incrusted with patches of snow rises above the clouds. The fist up, we enjoy the last meters of the ascent. The nature, after being so exhausting, cheers us up with a panoramic vista.
A tongue of clouds devours the valley, the snow softens the raw lines of the mountains and a keas' family celebrates our arrival.
Some landscapes are picked thanks to numerous aches and repeted efforts. A shooting screenplay for masochists that finishes with a happy end : an inexpressible excitement where we are perched on the summit.
Keyword - alpinism desire -
Tuesday 20 November 2007
The exhausting ascent of Avalanche peak
By dorian on Tuesday 20 November 2007, 21:14 - RTW-New Zealand
Monday 19 November 2007
The snows of the mount Cook
By dorian on Monday 19 November 2007, 02:38 - RTW-New Zealand
We leave the beach to the massif of the mount Aoraki (or mount Cook), the highest summit in New-Zealand. Cold snow and black and steep rock took the place of the softness of the blond sand, swept the waters of the Pacific ocean. It' not a matter of climbing this peak which requires good mountainering skills but dreaming and completing the kaleidoscope of end-of-the-world pictures that takes shape within our skulls. A path leads us from a lake to another one and finally ends on a viewpoint. Bewildering panorama on the rocky massif.
Yesterday, we wanted to jump into the waves and swim with the seals and today, we dream of wearing a harness, a pair of crampons and step on these pristine snows.
And, what about tomorrow?
Wednesday 12 September 2007
Panorama on the Annapurnas
By dorian on Wednesday 12 September 2007, 18:47 - RTW-Nepal
A short stop in Kathmandu to get the Indian visa before leaving to Pokhara and the protected area of the Annapurnas. The most mythical treks are called the Annapurnas circuit in 17 days or the Annapurnas sanctuary in 12 days. But I don't have enough time to step on of these trips and a travel agency in Kathmandu offers me a 6-day trek, "the Annapurnas panorama". I make Gyan Gurung's acquaintance who comes with me for these 6 days. A about-50-year smiling small Nepali.
The next day in the morning, departure to Pokhara, a 7-hour bus journey. En route, we drop a few tourists off at Dumre ; from there, they'll go to Besi Sahar and start the Annapurnas circuit. At Pokhara, the hostels string along the lake. Relaxing atmosphere far from the hubbub of Kathmandu. A panoramic photo hanging at the wall of the guesthouse reception leaves me wondering. With a clear weather, the lake reflects the 7000 and 8000-metre giants of the area but I must satisfy myself with the wall picture.
I wander around in the tourist street of Pokhara before getting my permit for the protected area of the Annapurnas. A simple pass to get in the park. I devour a dish of spaghetti before falling asleep, the soul sprinkled with eternal snow. Tomorrow, it's the D-day.
Day 1 : Naya Pul => Hile
A local minivan drops us off at Naya Pul, 1h30 from Pokhara. We put our bags onto our shoulders and we disappear into the alleyways maze of the village. First monkey bridge to cross the river and record to the park authorities. You must register your journey, your name and the numbers of the days inside the park.
A path fades into the distance. I'm happy to rub my shoes ontot the muddy trails of this gorgeous Nepali nature. We walk along the river. The monsoon rains wreak havoc. The path is sometimes impassible and we must cross the turbulent waters of the river to carry on pacing on the other bank. This first stage is short and we arrive at the village of Hile. A pile of corrugated sheet metal on multicoloured wooden frame with various signs : restaurant, guesthouse, delicious food, hot shower. The monsoon is synonymous with low season, and I'm the only one in this gathering of guesthouses. And for 1 euro a night, it would be a pity to cart the tent around. The laid-back atmosphere lets me realize the pleasure to be here. To look at the terraced fields of the opposite hill disappearing while the twilight goes down.
Day 2 : Hile => Ghorapani
Steps and steps again. An exhausting ascent which pulls me out liters of sweat. Difference of height : 1200m. More or less high, wood or stone, stairs became a leitmotiv. The head raises to peer what happens next but it's often with a low and shifty look it draws on its energy to order the legs to lift and go forward. Big drops stream down on my face and crash on the stone steps. The eyes forget the surrounding scenery and all the energy runs into the quadriceps. The suffering reads on the other madmen's face who came to the hard nature of the Annapurnas searching a bit of relaxation and cool air. Ghorapani. An incomparable satisfaction overwhelms me when I take off my shoes and hang my socks that keep the fruits of the effort among its stitches. In front of me, the mountains are not there. Where are the Annapurnas and the Dhaulagiri ? Behind the thick curtain of clouds. The comfort of a chair and a meal of pasta fully satisfy me.
Day 3 : Ghorapani => Tadapani
The alarm-clock rings. The dial displays 5h. I bend my head through the window and nothing sparkles in the sky. We cancel the morning ascent to Poon Hill, promontory to contemplate the sunrise over the snow-capped massif. At a more decent time to get up, azure-hued windows break through the greyish wall. The majestic Dhaulagiri and Annapurna I loom. I give a withering look at the ridges and spurs of the Annapurna I and start thinking of Maurice Herzog and Louis Lachenal who 50 years ago became the first alpinists succeeding in the ascent of a 8000-meter-plus peak. The desire of reading the story of this adventure devours me. A small library in Ghorapani luckily has a copy relating the saga of the French expedition : "Annapurna, first 8000m". The precious book at the bottom of my rucksack, we venture on a new section of stairs.
3000m high, a disused refreshment stand mingles with the sadness of the weather. Our wait will change no way. We get in a forest of rhododendrons. Twisting bodies which vivid-shaded flowers extend when the spring comes. River and waterfalls, majestic trees among a coulis of downy clouds, corniche stroll. The menu is mouth-watering. And for this trek I thought walking into the snow, onto a sterilized ground, onto uneven stones. Nothing of these, a green and twirling nature. A crystal-clear water that fills the ears when the eyes are busy to check where the feet land. Overdose of colours. The path plays with the water. Timber logs straddle the river and we leap from a bank to another.
Arrival at Tadapani, my eyes finally rest coming and going on the first lines of the adventure of Maurice Herzog. The sacred moutain of the Machhapuchhare breaks through the horizon. Silence... A band of admirers have just stood up. The snows of the Annapurna south twinkle. Still silence... The orangeay shade get thicker up to fade into the darkness of the nascent night. The pages of the book come and go endlessly.
Day 4 : Tadapani => Landruk
The trunks of the rhododendrons start again their waltz. A young Nepali takes off the numerous leeches hanged at his bloodstained feet. Luckier, I would only have 2. A little bit further, a buffalo shows us the ability of these horrible beings to drink blood. The diameter of these awful beasties has swollen from one millimeter to more than one centimeter. As for the eyes, they don't make a mistale. The spectacle is more aerial. Jungle and mountains. Lovely oxymore.
Day 5 : Landruk => Pothana
Short day. A simple stroll. The jungle fades into the distance and the rice fields loom. I finish the Himalayan saga of Maurice Herzog and Louis Lachenal who a certain 3rd of june 1950 opened the run to the conquest of the 8000-meter-plus peaks.
Day 6 : Pothana => Phedi => Pokhara
We reach the village of Dhampus and embark on a long walk down toward Phedi. The spectacle of the Annapurnas close. I live my last moments with my guide Gyan Gurung I'm attached to. But on the way back to Pokhara, sitting in this tottering coach, I fall asleep. And I am firmly convinced these mythical paths on the spurs of the Himalaya will see again my Vibram soles and Gyan Gurung will join in...
End of the Nepali adventures...
