travel – Be Kind To Dragons

Nepal Notes: Demonic trumpets and vivid necklaces

Posted on January 3, 2026January 3, 2026 by ianraitt

One thing has not changed since the first time I arrived in Nepal, in January 2008, and that is the dramatic and over-loud power horns attached to buses and trucks. 18 years ago, I was at first accommodated quite close to the highway, and the passing traffic certainly made itself known. And now I am staying quite close to the road again, but on the opposite side, still in audible distance of the torrent of discord.

Some of the horns play what sounds like a minor interval, such as C and E flat, exactly like the melancholy note traditionally heard on North American railroads. But the North American train horns are not designed to produce a minor triad, for example, nor any specific musical interval, but merely to be as resonant as possible, simply to be heard as a warning signal. The idea that the sound is melancholy may simply be due to context: the emptiness, the night-time, the loneliness of a long train journey.

Another common type of demanding horn sound here is a chromatic run, brutal and jarring, simply done to demand attention. On my very first visit there was a rhythmic staccato phrase reminiscent of some of the overtures to early Verdi operas, a brassy but more musical riff; but this is rarer now. The road emits sounds late into the night: a moaning of brakes, a rattling of metal bodies of trucks, a constant low rumble punctuated by squeaks, knocks, and jangles. These continue to lap against the windows, echoing as the vehicles recede on their bumpy path to Kathmandu.

The road works from Bhaktapur to Dhulikhel are still going on, and the only way to handle the topography is to have the two opposing traffic streams at different levels, and this has resulted in huge amounts of earth being gouged out, and massive walls of concrete put in place. I suspect that even when it is all finished, the road will mostly be choked with traffic.

As you approach Kathmandu, the massive ranks of motorbikes dominate the whole road, weaving in and out, or simply forming an impassible knot. Whatever happens, those raucous horns are sure to continue. Such jarring noises have been declared illegal, but like many of the well-intentioned laws in Nepal, this prescription has been ignored.

Last week we returned late from Kathmandu, and hurtling through the torrent of darkness were those trucks, which in addition to their strident voices, were bedecked in vivid necklaces of garish lights, insisting that in addition to being heard, they would certainly be seen.

Nepal Notes: day hike to Namobuddha

Posted on January 3, 2026January 3, 2026 by ianraitt

I have done this walk many times, but this time I noted some of the gradients. After passing through Dhulikhel, there is the steady ascent on ‘the thousand steps’ to the Kali temple, then the path goes down quite a way to the main highway that goes to the Terai, then gradually rising and winding round, with good views of the mountains, if only the humidity and smog were less these days. The road was being levelled and graded probably prior to being resurfaced, and it was quiet too. Above we could see a new building, that looks like a hotel, but incomplete, then another much more elaborate construction of a hotel underway, and finally the rather large and imposing new hotel, Dusit Thani Himalayan Resort. All of these new places have been constructed with the view in mind, though it is a bit further away than Dhulikhel, but it might allow a perspective on the further western ramparts of the Himalayas.

Finally, we go round the corner and descend slightly. Suddenly, another new hotel, though smaller, comes into view, the construction still going on. But beside it, there was a copy of an old style farmhouse. I wanted to go and see it close up, and Madhu said, yes, we could. So went down and a friendly lady showed us around both the large building, and this smaller, typical house. They had done the small house nicely, but to get to the second floor you had to up a metal spiral staircase on the outside. Both the upper level and the lower level consisted of two rooms, with a bathroom in the middle. The total cost of this house seemed modest from a western price model. I imagined doing something similar, but with slightly expanded dimensions, and an open plan area downstairs with kitchen, dining area and sitting area. Also, there was a third level with lower windows, and gable windows, but this is only accessible via a hatch. This is where they would keep the corn and other crops to store and dry in the traditional houses. Now this is just for the water tank.

So, finally, the stupa of Namobuddha comes into view, with the golden roofs gleaming. A descent, and another climb up. The views of the Mahabharata Hills are superb, though the air is still misty. The most interesting part for Madhu, is the shrine that celebrates the idea that in his previous incarnation, the Buddha sacrificed his body to a starving tigress, whose cubs were about to die as well. This legend attracts Hindu visitors to this place as well. We also went to the main prayer hall. Here, I think there are seven Buddhas in golden statues of various sizes, which represent different aspects of Buddhahood, such as The Buddha of Compassion. Otherwise, I still wonder why the prayer halls are so crammed with illustration, pillars, roofs, all sporting mandalas. Maybe all this represents samsara, or moreover something similar to the Hindu concept of maya, so all of this quite gaudy display of colour is meant simply to be ignored in the meditational practice. However, every time I go into a Buddhist redoubt, I feel very detached and it doesn’t set the pulse racing. But I always recognise the place Buddhism has in the religious experience.

The walk back could have been via another route, towards Panauti, which would be a descent, but I opted just to return the same way. I wanted to do the complete walk, which would be at least 25km. And, in fact, this was a good idea, since once you have gone up a short way, there was a long, gradual descent on that road which is being resurfaced, and was still quiet. The final section back to Dhulikhel features quite a long rise up from the road to the Terai, then you reach the Kali temple again, where we bought some drinks, then back down the steps. The whole journey was 27.5km. This was certainly enough for today!

In search of the Ganesh Himal base camp

Posted on February 7, 2024March 14, 2025 by ianraitt

To approach the inner sanctum of the mountains, we first had to descend quite steeply through the forest and cross a couple of rivers. The total ascent for these two days could therefore have been about 2200m, though without any altitude effects, since we were not staying at the top elevation of 4000m, but returning to Lungang Gumpa at 3200m.

What was apparent was that we were not taking the trail on the left hand side of the glacier, that led to the base camp, but the alternative trail on the right hand side. Ani Ri San indicated that there were three yak kharkas that would signal that we were on the right path. A long section went through moss-covered trees, with many fallen trunks. Madhu questioned why there were so many of these. It could be that the competition for sustenance means that some trees submit to self-sacrifice so that the larger forest entity may thrive. Research shows that trees communicate and assist each other. Also, this damp area obviously got much less sun, which may have affected the overall condition of the trees. The trail was quite indistinct, but we found the first kharka, and on we went through thinner, more open forest, where the snow still lay unmelted in shadow.

Madhu, with a stone resembling an image of Ganesh, in the last of the three kharkas

The map is quite misleading in that there is no glacier, or only the shrunken remnants of a glacier. The area of vast historical glacial erosion, perhaps from 10,000 years ago, was not visible to us, and when we finally ascended the innocent looking slope, seen in the above photograph, the hill with stunted trees on the left, it was with a shock that we realised that suddenly the land plummeted vertically down into the eroded valley, and was still crumbling away, so that the earth we stood upon might collapse at any moment!

the clouds are a narrative all of their own – looking towards the sanctuary

Madhu went on a little further to get a better view. He reported rockfalls and small avalanches from the cirque of icy slopes. Then down we retreated, through the snow meadows, with numberless steps, through the mossy green primeval woods and their rushing icy brooks, on a path more imagined than perceived. We came to the tree trunk bridge. It was a different proposition in the dark. I eschewed the challenge, and went towards a shoal of large rocks. ‘Jump!’ I urged Madhu, but I was glad to be pulled upward with Bishnu’s steady hand. Now there was only a shimmer of light in the west. I turned on the head torch, and we covered the last stretch in the thickening darkness, tired but elated, and pleased that we had truly trod a path less travelled.

dawn, at Gumba Lungdang, the following day

the descent towards Lokpa at sunset that same day

Further into the unknown region: The Ganesh Himal base camp.

Posted on February 7, 2024March 14, 2025 by ianraitt

Nile to Domje: While many of the most famous treks in Nepal are circuits, for example Annapurna, Manaslu, Kanchenjunga, there is also interest in going down the way that you came up, for example in the Everest base camp trek and the Langtang trek, due to the surprising new viewpoints you may have missed on the way up, as you see the landscape from a new perspective. This was a long day, all the way down to Domje, but no stress on the lungs. Leaving Nile, it was worth noting that these weather-beaten welcome gates, hide a rich set of Buddhist illustrations if you look up when passing through the gate.

weather-beaten welcome gate just outside Nile

look up to the heavens inside the welcome-gate

There must be a Tsum Valley diaspora, since on descending we took the path ‘less traveled by’ and came upon this magnificent, and freshly-constructed stupa, which Madhu discovered had cost some $270,000. Contributions must have come from far and wide.

magnificent stupa, with dramatic backdrop

Our descent took us to a pleasant, though seasonally parched, pasture above Chhokang Paro, where the north Indian plain smog could clearly be seen in a layer below, and which did not bother to delay before surging upwards and turning the pristine air murky.

Now we had to negotiate the exposed path that descends from Chhokang Paro to Domje. Wild mountain goats above looked down disdainfully. The path was stable, but some nerve was still needed in places, with steps submerged in fine dust.

in the smog again … narrow exposed trail

But we established that the Gompa on the way to the Ganesh Himal base camp is open! Now I only had to rally the troops, reminding them of what we would miss out on if we neglected this adventure. Meanwhile, approaching Domje, I was reminded of the parable of the sower: ‘ … and other seed fell upon rocky ground …’

Domje to Gumba Lungdang: The following day we went up through the forest, a magnificent walk. A winding path, not so steep at the start, but later it became quite tough as we went over 3000m, and also the full ascent was about 800m. Madhu said that we were travelling through an oak forest, but the leaves were evergreen. Many species must exist, and there certainly is a Himalayan oak. Meanwhile, views across the valley showed deep gorges and a thick covering of pines. The mountains were closer, with high extensive snowfields.

Hidden Himalaya, in all its untouched glory

We arrived, gratefully, at the Gompa, but only three nuns were in residence; the other ten or so sent, compassionately, for winter leave to warmer climes in India for study courses. Three nuns, and two hungry dogs. Some biscuits made friends of the dogs.

in bright sunshine outside one of the prayer halls at Gumba Lungdang, 3200m

There is not much flat land at the Gompa. Our rooms are perched above a steep drop. The kitchen is organised and warm. It is the universal habit to lop some branches from growing trees, and these long sticks are fed into the stove. A large kettle sits directly above the flames, and the stove door is kept open. But this often leads to rather smoky rooms, though in this case it was mostly smoke free.

We asked Ani Ri San why she had become a nun. She said it was of her own volition. She told us that her father had deserted her mother, and life became very difficult. She did not have a very positive image of marriage. Another issue in Nepal is child marriage, often due to poverty, though mainly experienced by marginalised social groups. Nevertheless, some nuns do not maintain their vows and leave the Gompas to seek a marriage partner. I asked if the practice of meditation may have a positive effect not only on the practitioner, but also on the world at large, and she agreed to that.

dusk is early at 16.45 … looking towards the amphitheatre of the Ganesh Himal – small meditation cell seen in the distance on the left

My room is constructed of wood, with many little shelves that could be bookcases. The pillow is even filled with sawdust; nothing is wasted here! There is very little flat land. around the Gompa, except for a few terraces where potatoes may be grown. An apple tree renders tiny fruit. This is a peaceful place. I could imagine spending a longer time here, especially in the winter, looking out longingly for snowfall, and at the wonderful evanescent cirrus clouds.

Tsum Valley: The Upper Sanctuaries

Posted on February 7, 2024March 14, 2025 by ianraitt

Chhokang Paro to Nile: So now that we were in the upper valley, did the atmosphere provide subtle emanations linked to the remote, untouched nature of the place, and to the constant vibrations transmitted from the places of inner devotion, the gompas with their adherents always in solitary, meditative retreat from the maya and illusion of this impermanent world?

Yes. Maybe. Maybe it did.

We saw in the distance, amid a thick pine forest, one of the gompas of this upper valley, that reminded you of one of the fairy tale castles to be found in Bavaria. Remote, almost invisible, still in the shade, mysterious.

It was, mercifully, a more gentle day. The valley was wide and spread with fertile fields, many of them already planted with winter wheat. Mules, unladen, came down at a strong pace. We stopped for an early lunch in a small, sunny courtyard. The sun was warm, but the wind still cold. Looking up you could see continuous chutes of powder snow falling down, down the crags. The lodge owner told us that even now some yaks are are on high pastures. The people keep an eye on the weather, and will go up to bring them down if it threatens a storm. Then we saw the characteristic fluted snowfields of the Ganesh Himal, beneath a faint new moon.

fluted snowfields of the Ganesh Himal, with new moon

Gompa (inhabited by nuns) beneath the crags; haze of green on the fields, planted with winter wheat

We went up from the trail towards Milarepa’s cave. It cost an effort. Horses and mules grazed. The guardian came running, explaining that he had been at a cremation, and had seen us moving up. The site was well-maintained, with a new staircase leading up, and small retreat houses beneath the cliff. One room had a shrine with a footprint of the saint. Another was a prayer-room with a shrine to Buddhist gurus; it had a gigantic prayer wheel. The shrine of Milarepa himself had an image of the saint, looking a little wild.

The dining room at the tea house in Nile was warm. It’s a phenomenon in winter when the sun streams in. Enjoy it while you can! The night will be cold.

approaching Nile (3200m), still in the winter sunshine

Nile to Mu Gompa: At 3700m the monastery catches the morning sun early due to the opening out of the valley, compensation for the colder, thinner air. On the way we crossed a wide river bed, not a landslide, but tribute to a mighty flood, an impressive sea of stone. Yaks grazed. We could not stay at Mu Gompa, but the resident monks gave us a cup of tea. Many further yak kharkas (summer pastures) are indicated on the map, all closer to the Tibetan border. In that direction, the southern facing slopes are free of snow.

border lands: a path leads to two main crossing points – snow-free slopes, crumbling into fine gravel

The monks won’t return the hand gesture in prayer mode that is universal while saying ‘Namaste’ in Nepal. Probably they don’t want to participate in a specifically Hindu phase, ‘I recognise the sacred within you,’ as it can be rendered. One monk mentioned that he was going to take water to an injured yak, as an act of service. At last we are clearly out of all remaining remnants of the north Indian plain smog, reminding us that windy.com often has the impure air going almost up to the border. Now the thought of the Ganesh Himal base camp has arisen. Will the Gompa up there be open? Will there be too much snow? Will I have enough energy? The idea of going there is surprisingly resilient, though.

Tsum Valley Approaches: December 2023

Posted on February 7, 2024March 14, 2025 by ianraitt

Leaving Jagat, the Buddhi Gandaki, gushing down – a tributary is providing local hydro power

Jagat to Lokpa: we were still in the common area for trekking around Manaslu. Frequent mule trains descended, unladen, usually placidly, but at times there was jostling and kicking. We could see that this traditional means of transport will be replaced by the gradual extension of the road towards the villages in the Manaslu valley. But one issue is, should a road also come to the untouched Tsum Valley?

The only way to extend the road is to blast through sheer rock faces. This is being done by the engineers and workforce of the Nepal Army. We are cautioned by an infantryman with an automatic weapon to wait, as a routine explosion was imminent. For some reason, there was a ‘test explosion’, then the real one came with a cloud of dust.

Classic Himalayan valley, our route on the right

This type of work may not be done with standard western risk management. There have been fatalities with similar road construction on the Annapurna circuit. But it is hard not to be impressed by the persistence that brings better communications.

Doing the Manaslu circuit in winter has an enhanced risk, even though the weather appeared very stable so far. We met a group of six trekkers who had turned back due to deep lying snow, wind and drifting snow. Later, though, we met two other groups going to attempt the Manaslu circuit: one from Germany and one from Australia, the second with an impressive 75 year old trekker, giving hope to others near that age!

Lopka to Chumling: A forest walk, winding up and down, with the river roaring below. First, a massive landslide that took 45 minutes to cross. It looked alarming, but in the dry season it was stable enough. We heard later that one trekker had taken fright and retreated!

There was only a glimpse of sunshine at the lunch stop. The owner of the tea house explained that they didn’t get sun for two months in the year. Suddenly a suspended walkway appeared in the cliff, but reassuringly ‘Swiss designed’. The metal holding plates had spaces for six bolts but only two were in use. We rationalised that the weight of the metal only required two bolts!

soaring cliffs show the sheer scale of things

Tiny settlements could be seen huddled beneath crags. One thing that has improved in Nepal is electricity provision, and even the remotest villages had their power lines, and the supply is stable, unlike fifteen years ago, when massive ‘load shedding’ was universal.

A rare hot shower was available at Chumling. The views became quite alpine. We ate in the cosy kitchen and later gathered round a small campfire.

Chumling to Chhokang Paro: Altitude started to kick in at 2500m. A group of women descended, asking, ‘Why are you taking this old man up? We are coming down to escape the cold!’ A couple of small children, aged 3 and 5 were walking 2km unaccompanied to school. Then two British chaps, but with Australian accents, as they had moved down under, jaunted down the trail in T-shirts and shorts.

Our destination at Chhokang Paro was the Bio Hotel. We were grateful that something was open. Again we ate in the warmth of the kitchen. While begging for an internet connection, we elicited from the lodge owner that his father was truly fortunate, living in the present moment, without the distractions of technology. Now we were in the real upper valley, with grand vistas and extensive level agricultural land.

early morning, looking back at Chhokang Paro, as the valley opens out into cultivated fields

Toward the Unknown Region: the Tsum Valley in Nepal

Posted on February 7, 2024March 17, 2025 by ianraitt

Chortens announce the entry to the upper Tsum Valley

Yes … a touch melodramatic, because the Tsum Valley in Nepal is only unknown to those who have yet to explore it. But the idea of the ‘unknown region’ is a symbol for adventurous travel, and maybe for deeper exploration, since Toward the Unknown Region is the title of a poem by Walt Whitman, and also of a piece, with the same name, for chorus and orchestra, by Ralph Vaughan Williams (1906), who also used Whitman’s poetry from Leaves of Grass for his epic A Sea Symphony (1909). The poem has some wonderful phrases, and though I might demur that Time and Space in themselves are worthy of such exalted praise, there is no doubt that Whitman’s words carry us vibrantly along in a mystical, ecstatic trance. https://whitmanarchive.org/published/LG/1891/poems/245

The Tsum Valley is a Buddhist enclave. The inhabitants are of Tibetan origin and speak a dialect of the Tibetan language; there are a number of monasteries, called Gompas, whose inhabitants in this area are nuns. At the head of the valley are at least two entries by high passes into Tibet, still used for seasonal trade, and through which, no doubt, the valley had been populated in earlier times, by explorers from the high plateau beyond. There is also a famous cave where the great saint of Tibet, Milarepa, is said to have been in retreat. The valley is liberally supplied with chortens, stupas, and prayer walls, and omnipresent prayer flags. It is an independent branch of the Manaslu circuit, and those trekkers who come up to the top of the Tsum Valley, will be acclimatised for the higher regions ahead on the main circuit.

Gradually the idea formed of a winter trek in December, by poring over maps, and reading Trekking around Manaslu and the Tsum Valley (Pritchard-Jones and Gibbons – Himalayan Travel Guides). You could see that after quite a steep day of climbing at one point, the land broadened out into a high, level valley, before narrowing again in its ascent towards the border. And I began, also, to speculate about an approach to the Ganesh Himal base camp, which should allow a viewpoint of the high, massive snowfields of these mountains, as yet unthreatened by the climate-induced melting going on in other places, due to their aspect facing north. We would have to stay at Gumba Lundang at 3200m, one of the monasteries, if it were open at this time of year, when people come down to spend a couple of months in Kathmandu and escape the cold.

So while journeying deeper into the mountains, I started to consider how
little I knew about Buddhism. Why was the religion so prominent and persistent in these remote valleys? Why were there so many nuns in the Tsum Valley? Even though Buddhism expresses some of my deepest beliefs, such as the ultimate illusion of our sensory life and our repetitive reappearance here on the earth planet, with only small incremental evidence of progress, I knew that my understanding of its traditions and current realities was superficial. As it happened, after the trek, I found some books in Kathmandu to add to those I had already read, that gave some further understanding, such as the following:
1. Thomas Shor: A Step Away from Paradise
https://www.thomasshor.com/a-step-away-from-paradise
https://www.bbc.com/travel/article/20220830-the-himalayas-hidden-paradise-valleys
2. Lama Yeshe Losal Rinpoche: From a Mountain in Tibet - A Monk's Journey
3. Alexandra David-Neel: Magic and Mystery in Tibet
4. Mick Brown: The Dance of the 17 Lives - the incredible true story of Tibet`s 17th Karmapa.
And I decided to re-read Lost Horizon, the 1933 novel by James Hilton, that immortalised the name, Shangri-La. Yes, fiction, but it also captured the public imagination, that somewhere on earth, there could be a rarefied place where the normal dissolutions that characterise human life, might at least be delayed, and where a conflict between temporal love and higher aspiration is brought keenly into contention.

The journey toward the unknown region would be both an inner and outer experience.