29/07/2023
The Benign Dawn of Ekledeurali
-Rajendra M Dangol
As the dawn breaks and the sun rises on its celestial ascent, I find myself at the summit of Ekledeurali.
I quickly check my phone- it's 5:45 a.m., and the altimeter reads 4,200 meters at Deurali.
Deurali, a lesser-known mountain in Nepal, has earned the endearing moniker of "viewpoint" for its breathtaking panorama of over a dozen simmering snow-capped peaks of the majestic Annapurna Range. Certainly not a tiny feat for a mountain of its modest stature.
I behold the celestial orb spreading its radiant wings, illuminating the earth, brightening it with each passing moment.
Adarsha, Peter, Nick, Jacqueline, and Brandon had beaten me to the summit of Ekledeurali and were taking in deep breaths of the serene morning air, basking in the gentle glow of the Sun. Nathan and Martin were fast approaching the peak, eager to join their friends, while Raji and Leena lagged behind, likely held up by the human traffic.
Before me stand two sister mountains- South Annapurna and Hiuchuli. Beyond them lies the imposing Annapurna-I, the eighth tallest mountain in the world, towering at 8,091 meters. A series of other peaks, Thurpuchuli, Shinhachuli, and Gangapurna, complete the Annapurna range, with the magnificent Machhapuchhre- a virgin mountain in the Annapurna region, challenging and tempting mountaineers. In the distance, the mountains Gandarvachuli (6,248 m) and Annapurna-III (7,555 m) appear to spread their arms to embrace the tourists.
Adarsha swivels 270 degrees, gesturing to the peaks and sharing their names with Jacqueline, Nick, and Peter. Jacqueline interjects midway, "Which one of them is the Mardi Himal?"
"The one just in front of Fishtail", Adarsha replies pointing towards the designated peak.
At first glance, the Mardi Himal, standing at 5,587 meters, appears to be an extension of Machhapuchhre. Many of the mountains in the range are difficult to distinguish from a distance, but Machhapuchhre's distinctive shape, resembling a fishtail, makes it easily recognizable. However, differentiating between other peaks in the Annapurna range, such as Gangapurna, Lamjung Himal, Annapurna I, II, III, and IV is an ordeal to non-mountaineering eyes. Mardi Himal proves to be even more elusive to the untrained eye.
Yesterday, from Baadal Danda, the Mardi Himal appeared as a baby clinging steadfastly to its mother's bosom. But today, from this viewpoint, their shapes resemble the index finger and thumb of a hand. The close proximity of the Mardi Himal only adds to the allure of Machhapuchhre. I am struck by the thought that the mere presence or absence of a single entity can have such a profound impact on the surrounding beauty.
"What would Machhapuchhre look like without the Mardi Himal by its side?" I ponder silently to myself.
ooo
Our plan was to begin our ascend to the viewpoint at 4:30 a.m. I had set my alarm accordingly, to go off at 4 a.m. However, the early morning bustle of the other guests at Hotel Highcamp, starting as early as 3 a.m., got my ears alert. This sudden racket stirred me from my slumber, like the unlocking of a phone screen.
A part of me empathized with them. How could those poor guys manage to fall asleep in the crowded dining hall? There were 45 trekkers sleeping in there that night. It’s ironic that Nepalese have to go through many hoops like this to enjoy nature in Nepal. But I couldn't blame them for starting early, as the condition in the crowded hall must have been suffocating. It seemed like the right choice to make, to start the journey early and avoid the crowds. Maybe this was why many of them had already set off on the trail.
After the alarm went off at 4 a.m., I went and knocked at Nick, Brandon, and Jaqueline's room. I was cautious not to wake up Bruce, who had decided not to participate in the sunrise hike.
Places above 2,500 meters drink on the youth of the fall season before the monsoon in Kathmandu ends. To insulate myself from the piercing cold in Keu’s altitude, I wore warm trousers, a down jacket, gloves, and a cap.
As I stepped out of my room, I could see the beam of torch lights flickering, moving restlessly on the serpentine trail. Not a parade of flames, but more like a swarm of fireflies. This sight took me back to my childhood where I used to play with fireflies every chance I got. I thought of my friends- Rajkumar, Ranjan, Raju and Gyanu. We used to compete with each other to capture these luminous creatures in our hands. Sadly, it’s difficult to catch a glimpse of fireflies these days. Unceasing environmental pollution and the invading city lights have all but extinguished the brilliant fireflies from our sight.
These tiny creatures play a critical role in the delicate balance of the ecosystem, serving as sustenance for bats and owls. In a park in China's city, Wuhan, hundreds of thousands of tourists flock every season to see the mesmerizing display of fireflies. These beautiful creatures could be a major draw for tourists in Nepal too but we have not given due consideration to preserving these wonders of nature.
Yesterday, Keu was enveloped in a dense fog, leaving us disoriented and directionless. It was as if we were lost in the mist, like a crow without a compass. But today, as I stood on the front porch of our hotel, I finally caught a glimpse of the city of Pokhara lying in the southern pit. The light looked dim and ethereal as it penetrated its way out of the fog.
“At this hour, Pokhara is probably dreaming of a mesmerizing morning.”, I imagined with my gaze fixed on the valley below.
It appeared as if Pokhara was lulled into a peaceful sleep, while lying on a pillow filled with empty rhetoric, unfulfilled pledges and hope, much like Kathmandu.
The private sector has greatly contributed to the growth and development of Pokhara, elevating its reputation beyond being just a city of lakes. While it was once known as a popular honeymoon destination for newlyweds, today it has become a prime destination for thrill-seekers and adventure tourists alike.
In an effort to save money, Peter carried a portable gas burner from Kathmandu. He arranged it on the table of the hotel's porch and boiled water with practiced ease. His caution was well-founded. They slap you Rs. 750.00 (equivalent to $6.00) for a mere liter of water here. Such an exorbitant price! Don’t even get me started on the cost of food. A simple meal consisting of an egg, a few hash brown potatoes, and a minuscule Tibetan bread, costs Rs. 650.00 in Humal (low-camp). A fellow traveler expressed his dissatisfaction with the tea served in Humal, as the cup size seems to diminish every year, yet the price continues to rise. Humal is only three hours from Sidhing, a town connected by road. I find their complaints fair. The quality and quantity of food fails to justify the price. I’d say the Sagarmatha region offers better value for money in terms of the quantity served.
I drank the mug of warm water that Peter had offered. I felt the sense of warmth spread through my body. It had seemingly satisfied my body’s hydration needs as I did not feel the need for water during the hour-and-a-half climb uphill.
There were around 300 other travelers that night in Keu, with many of them already having set off on their journey ahead of us.
ooo
Our journey had commenced exactly on time, as the schedule had dictated. I particularly admire the value of punctuality that foreigners adhere to. It is from them that I learned this valuable lesson. Being punctual means to have clarity of purpose. It is a way to solidify goals and serves as a lesson for those who might otherwise be tardy.
As we made our way along the path, we encountered a multitude of other trekkers who had set out ahead of us.
It was the wee hours of the morning. The trails were narrow. The lights strapped on everybody’s forehead cut through the darkness. We were treading slowly.
As Jaqueline, who was usually quick and full of energy, was caught in the traffic of travelers, I followed closely behind her. The narrow trail allowed for only a single file of people, making it difficult for her to break free and move at a faster pace. The headlamps on our heads created our shadows, which merged with the shadows of the person in front and behind us. In those shifting shadows, I searched for the essence of our journey. I reflected on past sunrise tours, such as my trip from Ghorepani to Poonhill in Myagdi and my climb from Hattibang to Siraichuli in Chitwan, as well as the chill I felt while hiking up Pikey Peak last year. As I reminisced, a glimmer of hope rose within me.
Jacqueline’s determined strides finally allowed her to surpass some of the other trekkers. I was following closely in her footsteps.
"Hey, Dai!"
A call from a lady hit my ears.
I found myself standing beside a group of two women and a man. I figured they were a couple with their daughter.
I paused in my tracks at the sounds of the daughter’s voice.
"Do you by any chance have some toilet paper on you?", she asked.
I could tell the poor girl was in a tight spot. And they had neglected to bring toilet paper with them. Too bad!
"Indeed, I do," I replied.
"Can you please lend us some? We had some with us but we left it in our hotel room. Never thought we’d face this situation."
I reached into my pack to retrieve the item and passed however much she needed. I have found myself in similar emergencies on previous journeys.
I learned that they were Newars from Lalitpur.
My interaction with the family had caused me to lag behind my group. After a strenuous hike of about 15 minutes, I was finally reunited with my group in Thali.
We walked up the steep incline after Thali. We all walked at our own pace- some ahead, some behind. Adarsha, Peter, Nick, Jaqueline, and Brandon were taking longer strides. Nathan and Martin were behind me. Raji and Leena were in the rear end.
No Sun, no rain. Climbing hills in the early morning washes me with immense pleasure. For one it is a way of staying close to nature and next learning to relentlessly move forward. Hiking is my way of busting stress. It is what has improved my flexibility. I also feel my confidence growing stronger.
With each step I took, my trekking pole created an off-key sound. The pole's clanging against the ground seemed to be signaling its impending demise, causing me to worry that it wouldn't survive the journey to the summit.
The stone steps have greatly eased the uphill journey. Without them, traversing the rough and steep terrain would have been much more difficult. Many travelers had stumbled upon mounds, mistaking them for plains. Sudeep Gautam, a prominent hotelier from Keu, played a crucial role in constructing these stone steps, improving the overall experience for all who made the ascent. Although he has passed away, his impact remains, and I reflect on his kind deeds as I take each step up the mountain.
As I reached closer to Ekledeurali during the early stages of the "blue hour," the horizon was getting ready to be graced with golden rays. A range of random thoughts were parading my mind. I had stopped paying attention to my surroundings. Soon I realized that I had reached the top of the hill without even noticing.
ooo
Peter, Nick, Jaqueline, and Brandon approached me with open arms and hugged me. We were all ecstatic to have finally reached the peak, happy to find ourselves at this height. This is what they had come here for, from the faraway land. This moment of triumph is what we had broken sweat for. Brandon seemed particularly overjoyed, as he had almost decided to stay back at Humal (Low Camp) due to ill health. However, with encouragement from the rest of us, he had decided to join us at Keu (High Camp) and his determination had paid off.
Our originally planned destination was to reach the Mardi Himal base camp. But, Ekledeurali offers much more to soak in the view. So, most trekkers make Ekledeurali their final destination. We followed suit.
At the viewpoint, there is a Nepal flag engraved and adorned with Buddhist prayer flags. The place also has a small hut run by Bhim Bahadur Tamang from Sidhing village. He offers hot water, tea, and coffee to the tourists. He is kept very busy with a high volume of visitors.
We move away from the growing crowd of tourists at the viewpoint. Peter shows off his yoga skills. He impresses us all with a long handstand, quickly becoming the center of attention as other tourists snap photos of him. How I wish I could do a handstand like Peter. His yoga skills make me quite envious.
I head back to Bhim Dai’s tea stall.
“Think I should have a cup of tea, Dai.”
“Yes, please do! That’s what I’m here for.”, he replies in a very warm and hospitable tone.
As he handed me a cup of black tea, I asked him the meaning of Mardi.
“Well, in the Gurung language, ‘Mar’ means gold and ‘dhi’ means roof. So, Mardhi means golden roof. The mountain takes on a golden appearance during sunrise and sunset, hence the name. Over time, it became known as Mardi and some people even call it Maardi now.”, he responded to my query.
“What’s the story behind Ekledeurali’s name?”, I dig in some more.
“There is a holy water source in one corner of the base camp, also called the Baraha region. During Janai Purnima, a large fair would be held, and many pilgrims would visit the region to take a holy bath. One year, a group of 13 devotees came to visit the water source. After taking the bath, 12 of them reached the peak of Bagale Deurali, while one of them reached this peak. Tragically, lightning struck and all 13 were killed. Twelve died at Bagale Deurali and since one person died here, it's named Ekledeurali (literally Lonely Peak). There was a woman among them who was on her menstrual cycle. Some say that made God angry and caused the lightning to strike. After that, the tradition of holding the fair also ended.”, he shared.
As I looked around, I noticed there were not just one, but multiple 'viewpoints'. We were standing on the flat back of the hill. And, this goes on to connect to the heart of Mardi. The sides of the hill were steep. The surface of the hill has troughs and crests that have been given different names over time.
Bhim Bahadur had told me earlier, “Mardi base camp is called Inchhatri, and the other hills beside it are called Taichha, Saga Danda, Bagale Deurali, and Ekledeurali.
ooo
The rising sun on the horizon is reminiscent of the red tika on the forehead of Kumari, the living goddess of Kathmandu. It seems as if a rhododendron is budding and blooming gradually, signaling the start of another day and marking the progression of time through seasons, generations, history, and civilization.
Sun, the thriving blossom in the sky, a bright star at the heart of the solar system, the ruler of the planets, natural source of vitamin D, indispensable energy, one of the popular deities, and a living embodiment of heavenly power, unfailingly performs its ritual of rising and setting daily. They say the sun is at its midlife now and is yet to live five crore years.
It’s the same Sun, even then every sunrise feels completely different to me.
Jacqueline looks elated, her radiant smile shining just as brightly as the rising sun.
The sunrise seems to offer a positive and fulfilling day ahead. My gaze is drawn to the magnificent sight. And as I offer prayers from my heart, the Sun greets the hills and the mountains with great pride. At exactly 6:13 in the morning, the Sun's rays brilliantly scatter over the mountains. At that very instance, Raji and Leena also kiss the peak of Ekledeurali.
The mountain with its fish-like tail shape, smeared in warm hues and magnificence, is just wow! I see an artistic touch in the beauty of Machhapuchhre. A benign dawn has fallen in Ekledeurali too. We are ecstatic at this point and it feels like the mountains are too. The Sun, the Earth- it seems like the Earth has balked, and the Sun is revolving around the Earth, instead of the other way around. The thought of what would happen if the Earth were to suddenly stop is beyond comprehension.
“Wow, this is my favorite color!”Jaqueline exclaims as the snowy white mountains start to dress themselves in gold, one after another.
"The golden hues are simply mesmerizing." I agree with Jacqueline and share her excitement.
Every sunrise is a captivating spectacle. It marks the beginning of a new day, bringing renewed energy and excitement. Tourists get busy capturing this picturesque moment in their lens.
I think of Bruce at this very moment.
I ponder, “What could he be up to?” I'm sure he would be fascinated if he were here.
I recall Bruce saying yesterday as soon as we reached Keu, “This is probably the maximum height I can be in .''
I think that height was the zenith for a man constrained by age and health condition.
As the warmth of the sun touches the white expanse of Ekledeurali, the shimmering blanket of frost begins to weep and soften the earth beneath. As if summoned by the gentle heat, a flock of birds appears, flitting about like a string of precious pearls, and filling the air with their melodious song.
One heavenly place, one divine moment! The extraordinary beauty of Ekledeurali transcends description.
I shift my gaze to Chhomrong and Sinuwa, two places where I have formed a deep attachment through my journeys. The mist over Chhomrong seems to be drifting away. Many memories come flooding back as I recall the trips I have taken to the Annapurna Base Camp, passing through those very places. On one such occasion, I was so famished on my return from the base camp to Chhomrong cottage that I gorged on a plate of rice and meat, leaving me unable to move for hours. The taste of the delicious sprouts and wild spinach in Bamboo and Himalaya is still fresh in my mind, truly unforgettable. I find the Annapurna Base Camp, a bowl-shaped haven, alluring. Each time I had visited there I tried to measure the pace of Annapurna Glacier. Now I hear the soothing whispers of Modi's wave.
Verdant green at the base, followed by earthy brown, and then crowned by a striking contrast of black and white. The bodies of Annapurna South and Hiuchuli look just like this. A breathtaking blend of natural colors, I must say.
My eyes are beckoned to swirl in the sky like birds, and just like that my heart takes a plunge in the endless blue.
“There!, that's where Mardi Khola begins”, Adarsha points to a gorge just below the Mardi Himal, standing next to me.
We are far from Mardi Khola; neither can we see nor hear it. But rather, I am serenaded by the rhythmic melody of the breeze dancing from Ekledeurali.
Pari Adhikari, a freelance guide from Pokhara, who we met a couple of days back in Humal, approaches us.
He suggests curiously, “Sir, just look deeply at the section beyond the Mardi Base Camp, and you will see the figure of a slumbering tiger!”
The shape does form like that if you peer intently. I imagine a massive form of tiger at rest.
Mr. Yogi Peter seems ecstatic.
He joins in our conversation and exclaims, “How peaceful the sunrise is, isn’t it?”.
He further adds, “Open your heart and feel it! Allow it to permeate your being”.
I follow his instructions and totally feel it.
While we were soaking in the warm glow of the sunrise in Ekledeulari, it was already 8 a.m. As we arrived at Keu a quarter before nine, we found Bruce seated in a Padmasana position on a sleeping mat. As he opened his eyes, I inquired, “How are you feeling, Bruce?”
“Oh, Raj! You guys have arrived!. I really enjoyed the morning view. I woke up at 6 and came out of the room. By that time, the entire high camp was empty. Those mountains were so dazzling. Well, I was alone and I felt like they were calling me. You know, I really had a friendly conversation with them.
As I heard him explaining, I realized that he was far more content than us, who had just returned from 4,200 meters.
***
