Willy Wonka goes for a hike

Today I set out to hike to Sarankot, a town at the top of a big hill and the launching point for all the paragliders in Pokhara.  I had been there once before but we took the long route through town in a taxi at 4:30am or so to see the sunrise.  Today was going to be different. It was the first day of the next two weeks of my life…

Since the in-field data collection is done, I need to keep busy for the next two weeks until Nathan comes, and as well, take advantage of getting exercise comfortably out of doors while I can.  So my hair-brained idea is to go hiking in the morning, then come back and do work on my thesis all afternoon (and hang out with real live people if anyone wants to be my friend, but that’s a post yet to be written).

These are pictures I took out the bus window.

Today I left a little later than planned because of breakfast and last minute shopping with a lady I had met who headed to Kathmandu later this morning.  9:30am seemed like a reasonable time to set out regardless, because the hike to Sarankot is said to be about an hour.  To get to the entrance point is about 30 minutes but it’s a flat walk so that doesn’t count, right?

I bought a fresh bottle of water, reloaded my SIM card in my cell phone, left the valuables including my camera behind and headed on down the road.  Pokhara is really interesting because it is mostly built up, until it isn’t.  The main area where all the touristy stuff is is called Lakeside and it slowly peters out until you find yourself slogging down a pretty stony, dirt road that leads fairly suddenly to a more rural part of the area.  There are also less cars and more space for the animals to graze, the rice paddy appears and you feel far removed from Pokhara, the tourist town everyone knows and loves.

To get to Sarankot, I found a sign heading to the paragliding landing spot pointing up saying Sarakot 6km so up I went, around the first bend then the second, it was just me and the butterflies enjoying the cool morning breeze.  Then I came across a father and daughter ‘grass cutting’ for the gai and the bakhra (the man was pleased with my Nepali).  He asked if I was alone and heading to Sarankot and I said yes I was. Sometimes Nepali people ask fairly blunt questions that seem a bit weird like ‘oh are you alone?’ or ‘where are you staying?’ or from a friend’s family member, ‘where are you keeping your bank cards?’ But if its someone you know or get a good vibe from, it’s probably just genuine concern for you.  So I asked how far to the top and if he thought it was ok I was alone, he said about an hour and that it was fine.  Then I said my parting Namaste and carried on. 

Being that I have been off the ‘exercise wagon’ a little lately, I was reminded of the sheer joy of completely ruining yourself doing something physical.  The hill to Sarankot is steep, and though it was a road I was following, the road was totally crap to walk on because the terrain went from soft dirt to big stones to cobblestone to grass to puddles to buffalo pattys… it kept changing so I really had to watch my feet the whole time.  But that’s part of the fun I suppose, and I continued. 

The next person I met while washing my face in a cold and fresh water-spout from a stream was a lady who explained in great detail using hand gestures how exactly to get to Sarankot. Unfortunately my fluent Nepalese hasn’t kicked in yet so I sort of did my own questions “Up, then up and up?” and gestures, thanked her and carried on again. 

Since I hardly met anyone after that, the walking was really quite meditative because the dry heat and the grasshoppers brought me back to when I was ten years old walking along the Credit River on a hot August day.  That mixed with the smell of fresh cut wood wafting down from a building project that reminded me of my Dad made me feel quite at peace thinking about him and whether or not he would have liked traveling to Nepal.

I continued up and about 40 minutes into the hike I came across a sign that said “Sarankot à 1 Hour” which was a little off putting.  At that point, just over 1/3 of the way I was pretty much dying because that idyllic heat in my memory didn’t scorch as much as the hot breeze that picked up, spurred on by the blazing sun.  The steep climb to the next switch back felt less of a challenge and more like torture because my legs weren’t accustomed to the 45 degree angle of the hills.  It was really a testament to my willpower that I continued on, up, around and back on the flat. Up, around and back… it went on endlessly until I think I was about three quarters of the way and confronted by some pretty indignant water buffalo that I thought, maybe this is a bit too much for me today.

I sat and ate an orange and waged my options… shoo the buffalo away and carry on or think about the probably 1.5 hour hike then walk back to the guesthouse?

With all the sugar of that fresh clementine coursing through my blood I came to my senses and decided that the “pup out and head downhill to the hideout” route was probably the best option for me.

You must be wondering where Willy Wonka is in all of this?

Tune in tomorrow to find out.

Wiiiiiizzzzzzzz!