A Trekking Adventure in Post-Quake Nepal

A trek in Nepal only a year after its devastating earthquake may seem like an unlikely choice for a family vacation, but the Himalayan kingdom is as mysterious and rewarding as ever

WE WERE trekking above Eastern Nepal’s valleys, their slopes sculpted into terraced fields, when we hit a half-mile-long run of stone steps. They lead up from a holy lake, sacred to both Hindus and Buddhists, that sits at 9,840 feet in Solukhumbu, a region of the Himalayas also home to Everest. Our expedition party was led by local guides, many of them Sherpas, who are among the dominant ethnic group in this area, originally migrating across the Himalayan passes from neighboring Tibet centuries ago. But despite this deep history in the region, the Sherpa porter I walked with couldn’t tell me how old the steps were, who put them there, or where exactly into the clouds they led. In some parts, the stones were scattered, the paving slippery with fog. Blood-red rhododendrons had spread their roots like gnarled fingers trying to find a better grip.

 

My 8-year-old son darted up the stairway quickly, making me worry about broken legs. I picked my way cautiously, struggling in the thin air. We were now a long day’s walk from the nearest road. Medical facilities in this district are few, including a hospital in the town of Phaplu catering to a remote community of 110,000 people, some of whom travel five days for care.
Eventually the slope plateaued, the woodland opened up and we hit a ridgeline above the clouds. Along the narrow spine ran a 65-foot-long, chest-high wall, like the crest of a dragon. Granite slates carved with Buddhist prayers were layered against the sides. One of our porters chanted quietly as he walked along the cairn. Above us, we could see the dark flanks of Mount Pikey—one of the region’s 13,000-foot-plus peaks. Beyond that, and out of view, lay Everest itself—a brooding shadow I had spied from the plane on the 40-minute Twin Otter flight from Kathmandu to Phaplu.
Our aim was to make Pikey’s summit, which is draped in Buddhist prayer flags, on a three-night, 19-mile trek with nine kids aged 8 to 11, 17 tents, 20 mountain bikes, 40 porters and 2,645 pounds of cooking and camping equipment. The logistics were masterminded by a friend who has lived in Nepal for the last 30 years. It was a private expedition designed in the spirit of the early Himalayan explorers, compete with silver tumblers.

 

We exchanged tales around the campfire about the English plant-hunters who brought rhododendrons back to fill Victorian walled gardens. We heard about the thrill-seekers who tried—and failed—to beat Sir Edmund Hillary and Tenzing Norgay to the Everest summit in 1953. We walked eight hours a day. We ate congee with Himalayan herbs for breakfast, and risotto with local morels for dinner. We stopped at a yak herder’s house for lunch. We drank chang—a fermented rice and barley drink—and danced to traditional Nepali songs; in the absence of an iPod, our guides made music by stamping their feet.

 

 

Each day was richly mysterious. When yaks emerged out of the mist with their curious sloped backs and shaggy manes, it felt like we had stepped into the pages of Narnia. When we visited Chiwong, a monastery perched on a cliff above the airstrip at Phaplu, the kids took the mountain bikes, leaving me to walk slowly on my own. For a few precious minutes, I had Chiwong to myself. Then I heard the patter of bare feet—a monk, I thought. I looked for him in the corridor of prayer wheels. I saw no one. I shivered. In the dull light of a monastery glowing with butter lamps, I wondered if I’d heard a ghost.
For all its magic, however, Nepal is no Shangri-La. In the village of Phaplu, we visited the hospital Sir Edmund Hillary built in 1975. A small child, with a face covered in burns waiting to be treated, sat on a bench close to a pile of rubble. The stones marked the spot of a former maternity care facility, which was destroyed by last April’s massive, magnitude-7.8 earthquake. We talked with a Belgian orthopedic surgeon, Dr. Pierre Soete, who has so far raised about $224,000 to rebuild the unit, working with Dr. Mingmar Gyelzen, a Sherpa born in this valley.
Even before this quake, Nepal faced serious difficulties. The Maoist insurgency that began in 1995 fueled a decadelong conflict between rebels and government forces. The government, already dysfunctional, spiraled out of control in 2001 when the country’s Crown Prince killed nine members of Nepal’s royal family as well as himself in a shooting massacre at the palace in the capital of Kathmandu. Last April’s earthquake killed over 8,000 people and injured more than 22,000. An avalanche, triggered by the quake, swept through Everest Base Camp, taking 22 lives. Nepal’s tourism industry fell off a cliff. Capital investment in this sector is now lagging behind other countries in the South Asian region, according to the World Travel and Tourism Council.
When I visited just a few weeks ago, buildings battered by the earthquake still lay untouched. In Kathmandu, it can be hard to discern earthquake damage from the decrepit architecture of a country that has long lacked the funds to repair and rebuild. Compared with when I first visited in the early 1990s, tourists were few. Aside from our large party, I saw just one other tourist in the remote region through which we trekked the two weeks I was there. Yet new lodges are opening—answering a need for tourism to return.

In the Gorkha District, which was the epicenter of the earthquake, there’s the new Gorkha Guan lodge, with a handful of stone, slate and wood cottages. In Chitwan National Park, Taj Hotels just opened the luxurious Meghauli Serai, where visitors can book wildlife safaris to look for Nepal’s tigers and one-horned rhinos from the back of an elephant. In Mustang, a region on Nepal’s northern border, a series of four new lodges, built along the old salt trade route linking Tibet and India, is expected to be completed in the next 18 months. Also imminent: a rebuilt Mustang Resort (it was damaged in the quake) in the town of Jomsom. I’m especially eager to visit this part of Nepal. If there are moments when Solukhumbu is Narnia, then the ancient kingdom of Mustang is another sliver of the Himalayas that’s hard to believe. Its king, who lost his crown with the abolition of the monarchy in 2008, will take tea with tourists in his ancestral palace. Nepal has had its share of tragedy, but high up among the prayer flags, the old magic is still there.

 

Trekking There: The author’s trip was arranged privately, not through a trekking company. Similar excursions can be put together by Remote Lands, a high-end trip designer with experience in Solukhumbu and in Mustang. Mountain Kingdoms organizes group, set-departure 15-night treks . For information on the maternity clinic in Phaplu, 
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Climbing There: It will cost you upward of $59,000, but if Everest represents the summit of your ambitions, book an expedition with Scotsman David Hamilton at Jagged Globe, who’s made it to the top of Everest seven times with clients. His expertise is exceptional and his expectations realistic.

Nepal Brett Taylor

Rafting There: Lodge owners Ker & Downey Nepal have opened a string of small hotels in the Annapurnas, Nepal’s other trekking hot spot, where you can also raft on the Seti River through a secluded valley. A three-night trip combines day trips on the Class II rapids and overnights at Three Mountain Lodge


Tracking Tigers There: Tiger Tops, a pioneer of luxury eco-tourism in Nepal, operates two lodges on the fringe of Chitwan National Park, home to about 120 tigers . Taj Hotel’s new Meghauli Serai is its glossy 21st-century competitor for wildlife safaris. It has 16 villas with plunge pools and offers elephant-back rides through the jungle