(fall of 2016)
They told me the Red House Lodge was the oldest hotel in town so I wandered through the medieval village retracing steps from over 35 years ago. In the year of 1979 I trekked to Everest Baser Camp as well as Annapurna Base Camp. I also had the intention of heading to Muktinathand on to Thorong La Pass. My plans were halted by the onset of what was later discovered to be Hepatitis.
As I recall there were two tea houses in town back then, the Red House and Hotel Mustang.The Red House was my choice with such a welcoming hostess by the name of Pema Dhoka. A large downstairs housed the kitchen and eating area. The upstairs was a room of equal size that provided a half dozen or so make shift beds. The “luxurious” beds were made of a raised piece of plywood topped by a 3 x 5 ft Tibetan carpet. Trekkers provided their own sleeping bags as temps would get quite low at night. The walls were covered with beautiful religious paintings.
In ’79 there was no electric, no toilet as we know it and definitely no WIFI (as is now the norm in many of the local tea houses). My overnight stay ran about a dollar a day which included a meager amount of food that I, only sometimes, was able to consume.
On my return trip to Kag Beni (2016) I felt a thankfulness of great magnitude. Thankful that I was able to drag myself out of the town during my illness (decades before), and thankful to return now in good health. Never again would I make the mistake of drinking water from a beautiful mountain waterfall in the Himalayas. Altitude plays a part in ones poor decision making. On this journey I now double treat all water. I am committed to use my Life Straw as well as the Steri Pen.
And so, at age 62 I returned. I spotted a Red House Lodge sign in disrepair and undoubtedly the same sign I viewed while in my twenties. Although the hotel was closed (due to renovation) my curiosity overtook me. I slowly entered through an open doorway. I was overcome by a wave of emotion. I saw a flashback of my previous visit. In the far end of the room I recall a so called doctor pounding on a local woman’s hands; she yelled a dozen times during her “treatment.” When her treatment was over Pema looked at me as if to say “you are next” as she knew I was quite ill. With a shake of the head I declined.
During the first couple of days of my sickness I was able to drag myself to the dining area for a bite; as my illness progressed I could only drag myself out of bed to relieve myself. The problem was explosive. Each time I could barely made it out the front door, leaving a terrible mess for Pema. Not only struck with hepatitis but also affected by altitude sickness, I was not concerned about my condition.
As my condition deteriorated I lay in bed thinking about the wonderful experiences I had. I accepted the fact that I would probably never leave this medieval village. Each day I found myself weaker and in a more blissful state of being. Pema was most likely used to this. Trekkers came and went, like aliens from another planet. She must have found our actions odd, though certainly glad to be accepting the meager payments.
After several lethargic days had passed, my savior Hilda arrived. Before she had a chance to place her backpack on the bed she took a glimpse at me. She understood my state. In a stern German accent she proceeded to question me. “What’s your name; how long haveyou been here; when did you last eat; you know you must have family at home waiting to seeyou; you need to get out of here” and on and on. It wasn’t till she mentioned caring parents andsiblings that I felt any remorse about whether or not I would ever make it home.
I just wanted her to leave me alone as the thought of just fading away was much easier to dealwith than having to get up, pack up and start walking. “You MUST” Hilda said “eat something tonight.” “You MUST start walking towards Pokhara tomorrow. I will help you pack. I will not leave for Muktinath until I see you are on your way.”She continued to tell me “when you get to Marpha there is a clean western style toilet at thehotel and they serve apple pancakes.” The sound of a “real” toilet and pancakes started to put a bit of motivation into my spirit. “And if you don’t think you can make it all the way to Pokhara” she said “you will be able to catch a flight in Jomsom. You must leave early since you knowhow strong the afternoon winds can be. You have no choice, you MUST go. You take just one step then you take another one. You WILL get there.”
Finally reality hit me. I became somewhat aware of my situation. I wanted to get back to America. I wanted to see my family again. I became scared as I wasn’t sure if I was physically capable. I kept telling myself “one step then another step.”
The Kali Gandaki Gorge is deep; the wind howls and pushes you hard in the opposite direction.I walked a few minutes along the river bed. I stopped to rest. I pushed my way against the wind again followed by an even longer rest. The force of the wind increased as the afternoon approached. Again and again I walked and rested, walked and rested keeping focused on atoilet and pancakes. Pancakes seemed like an incredible treat after mostly rice and dahl for the last several weeks.What should have take me two or three hours took me a full day. I arrived in town of Jomson the the dark. During the ordeal I decided I wouldn’t make it to the toilet or the pancakes; I would give up inJomsom. I decided to catch a flight back to Pokhara from Jomsom. Marpha to Pokhara wereout of my reach and out of my physical ability (or so I thought).
Bad news upon late arrival in Jomsom. Dozens of other trekkers had already waited days for a flight back. There was only one plane servicing the area. For days it had to be used for something other than transporting trekkers in need of getting back to their “real lives.”I fell asleep in depression about the situation wishing I had just let myself fade away in KagBeni. I wasn’t really any better here, I thought.
Come morning I chatted with stranded hikers. With so many awaiting their turn to fly I realized itwould be a very long time for my turn to come. I focused on pancakes, apple pancakes. Ienvisioned myself being able to sit on a western style toilet without others squatting by my side.“One step at a time” I told myself. Somehow I mustered up the energy for the one day hike to Marpha. I ate the apple pancakes. I ate more pancakes and then some more. That’s all I remember. Somehow I walked all the way back to Pokhara. I must have had trail angels all along the way.
And now in 2016 I bring myself back to the site of my illness. I want to find Pema. I want to apologize for the terrible mess I left her each day. I want to make it to Muktinath this time. Pema found me wandering around what used to be the dining room. She didn’t question why Iwas walking around her lodge despite it being closed for renovations. My kind hostesssmiled at me as if she were glad to see an old friend after such a long separation.
In near perfect English she said “hello” which was a surprise as she had no knowledge of theEnglish language when we first met. I asked her if she was the manager also in the seventies. She said “yes”. With a tears in my eyes I told her I had stayed with her and that she had taken care of meduring my illness. She smiled and said “yes” giving me the impression that she rememberedthe ordeal. I wondered if she actually remembered me or was, perhaps, just trying to be polite.I felt certain there must have been numerous other sick trekkers over the decades.
I proceeded to tell Pema that I was sorry to have been so much trouble to her and that I havethought about her many many times since then. At least a half dozen times I lowered my head slightly and said “thank you.” Pema stepped closer to me, held my hand, smiled and pressed her forehead to mine. I was overwhelmed with emotion.
This wonderful woman invited me to view her alter room, as well as her sleeping and eatingareas. I think I spotted a small TV in one corner which was in huge contrast to how Iremembered the lodge to be. We spoke about husbands and lack of. I told her she is a strong woman and flexed a muscle at the same time. We both giggled like small children. She showed me pictures of her son and her grandchildren. She mentioned that they live in New Jersey. Although I felt sad that they were all so far away, she looked happy and proud. She told me she is going to visit them in two months time. She laughed about the old style tea houses and about the accommodations of today. She said “WIFI” and then laughed really hard. I joined in her laughter thinking of today’s trekkers many ofwhom expect WIFI everywhere they stay. “Trekkers these days” she said “want everything. Much different now.”
Construction was taking place in every direction that I looked. It was obvious that a lot had been started but it looked like work was at a standstill. My friend took me to the rooftop to share the wonderful view with me. She stretched out one arm and moved it across the panorama as ifto say “why would anyone want to live anywhere else.” She looked perfectly content.
Pema proceeded to shake off a carpet. When she reached for the next one we shook it together. Next she started to shake off beautiful yak blankets. “These” she stated “I make forty years ago. I am 62 years old now. So much time going by. So old.” I smiled and told her we are exactly the same years young. More laughter followed. Before we headed back downstairs I took another glimpse of a colorful carpet which may have been the one I laid on for so very long, so long ago.
Pema went to a cupboard and brought out a jug of water and a syrup made in nearby Muktinath. She mixed me a drink and poured it in a dusty looking glass. “Please drink” she said. My heart sank and I felt in panic mode.
How can I say no and yet how can I drink it knowing I run the risk of sickness once again. Not to drink of it would mean offending someone who has been so very gracious both then and now. I took a small sip, then made believe I took another sip. I told her that I wanted to take the rest for later as I poured it in my water bottle. Once again I told her “thank you for caring for me.” her smile was genuine and large. As I said goodbye we held hands clasped together in prayer formation. We tilted heads, smiled and foreheads touched once again.
I walked away with tears of joy realizing this would be the highlight of my trip. This has been an amazing and wonderful reunion.
Upon returning to the Yak Donalds hotel I find the power and WIFI to be out. A few trekkers stop in looking for a bed. In a pissed off tone I hear one of them say “what no WIFI” and walk out. How fitting to spend the night once again by candlelight. With the reunion being so wonderful, I decide to return one more time the next day to bring Pema chocolates and local brew. We eat, we drink and we laugh.
(Pictures of Pema can also be found in the book “The Other Side of Polyandry by Ruth Schuler
first edition 1987)