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Wednesday 12 September 2007

Panorama on the Annapurnas

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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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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...
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Wednesday 15 August 2007

The artists-farmers of the terraced rice fields of Ping'an

Renting a whole-day taxi is certainly the simplest way to reach the terraced rice fields of Ping'an. A gorgeous hill-nested village. A lot of villagers have understood the singularity of the place since hostals, restaurants and souvenirs stalls run alongside the maze of stairs which rise up into the hill. Maps put up at the forks indicate the different ways to get to the valley-overlooking viewpoints.

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At the end of the village, the stairs keep on the side of the hill. On the left, harmonious green curves split the valley. These hard-to-reach, uneven hills were tamed by the rice farmers. Shaped in short terraces and broken through by small irrigation canals. Rice comes to maturity at this time of the year and a shining green covers the ingenious land terraces erected by the artist-farmers of the Ping'an county.

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Our hike inside the rice fields stops as we meet the Yao women, ethnic minority whose hair length (more than 1m) is registered in the World guinness book.

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Farmers line the way. Working the ground, bedding out the rice or mending an irrigation canal, these meticulous, apparently insignificant works are the elementary bricks of this twisted lines patchwork which draws the scenery of the hills.
Our path drops us off at Dazhai, surrounded by new thrilling rice fields terraces. From the proportions to the directions of the curves, from the heights of the terraces to the mesmerizing green of the rice seedling, everything was taken into consideration to offer a marvellous spectacle. And even if they are artists against their will, there's something genius inside the designers of these rice fields.

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Sunday 5 August 2007

The 5 sacred peaks of the Huashan mountain

Without being as popular as the Buddhism, the Taoism keeps a strong influence in the Chinese traditions. Some people credit it to be the only "made in China" religion, the other ones were imported. The Tao concept is the epicenter of the religion and describes how each person must set up his life to keep in harmony with the order of the universe.
The Taoism has its sacred mountains as well and Huashan is one of them. 2 hours by bus from Xi'an, the Huashan small village is the starting point to explore the mountain. Shuttles continuously commute from the village to the access area of the north peak. A cable car prevents us from walking the strenuous ascension.

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Easily recognizable with their caps, Chinese tourists outnumber the pilgrims. The group of red caps follows the one of yellow caps. The cable car drops us off by the north peak and we start the unending ups and downs from a peak to the next one, west peak, south peak, east peak and center peak. Without experiencing it as a pilgrimage, the different ascensions need some moral qualities to end the loop and not eluding a peak. An about 5-hour exhausting lap in the middle of white and smooth rock, breathtaking cliffs, lumps of forests nested in the stony chinks, floating temples above an ocean of clouds. Hours of emotions running alonside the summits of the sacred mountain.

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The crowd massed at the entrance of the cable car drives us to put in a last effort going down on foot. Inside the gorges, the scenery is marvellous while le last steps are really painful for our legs.

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