Naturally Artistic

by ROMA ARYAL

FROM ISSUE # 153 (September 2008) | IN THIS ISSUE
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ALL IMAGES: ROMA ARYAL

Destination: Ghandruk, Landruk, Dhampus
What to take: A down jacket in the winters, waterproof clothing when it gets drizzly and cold, and binoculars for bird-watching
How to get there: Take a bus from Pokhara to Naya Pul, and hike right past Ghandruk. It may be a popular tourist destination but ignore it and hike towards Landurk and Dhampus.

From Syauli Bajar, we walked along with the Modi River. There, the river is still quiet and dipping our toes from the very edge was safe. Even the buffaloes make it across the river unharmed. Life is plenty– little red-breasted robins chirp their way around and flocks of green parrots hide behind the trees. The land became richer as we walked towards Ghandruk, vegetables burst from every grain of sand, and even the cracks between the walls had spinach growing from them. In the horizon, the mountains seemed to lift themselves up with every step on the track, and grow whiter.  

When you've reached Ghandruk and had time to sit quietly after a fulfilling plate of dal bhat tarkari, look to the East. The small cluster of houses on the hill before you is Landruk. The hill has a large shadow swept across its face because of the sun's rays, which only reach it after midday. Until then, the hill is as cold as night. Most travellers in these areas stay the night at Ghandruk, but a stop at Syauli Bajar meant we would have lunch here and move on. As we descended into the gorge that separates the two hills, we were careful not to slip as the Modi now explodes through the landscape, untamed. Like Trishuli, there are stories here of those who've been exposed to the river's wrath, those who've been swept away and eaten whole by its currents. Over the bridge, the colours are bright and the well-kept gardens border our track. The steps ascent sharply, and small white-washed walls that match the white mules, surround it.

We finally arrived at Landruk and measured how far we were from civilization with Bourbon prices. At Ghandruk a packet costs Rs 25, in Landruk it is an entire 30 bucks. In Pokhara, it was Rs 10. Our hotel was a few steps away from a crooked building that looked like something out of a fairytale. There were other guests here, mainly foreigners with their guides, who were passing by as they headed for Annapurna circuit. The guides had stories to tell about the beauty of Annapurna Base Camp, of snow, and heaven on Earth. All of us sat around the fire as they spoke, and soon the local children began to sing. They beat their madals, and waiting to pull in snot once in a while, sang " eh kanchha, mata k ramri churahai, maya ko herai po ramro." The dancing and the singing resonated through the night and our dinner was served. It was a plate of 'French fries' – boiled potatoes cut twice across that cost a whole Rs 80. Vegetables grow slow in this cold hill, whatever has grown though, has taken its time to be entirely delicious. But afterwards, we didn't dare order anything more adventurous than corn bread.

At breakfast, the sun had already risen but its radiation was nil and Landruk was dark under shadows. The mountains were spectacular–like opening a refrigerator to the sky, they emitted giant clouds of vapour. With Himchuli directly above us, we felt like little ants cradled in its lap. But travelling involves leaving, and we somberly picked up our bags and headed towards Dhampus. As we strode ahead, the cold morning transformed into a blazing day and brightly coloured flowers nodded in groups as we walked. Against the perfect blue of the sky, the mountains put on their show– Machhapuchhre, Himchuli and Annapurna.

The afternoon ended somewhere in between, the forests began to thicken and the day darkened in the midst of clouds. We walked inside the clouds, which were so heavy, we could feel the moisture and people before and after us disappeared into the grey like ghosts. The sun itself was a white moon, muted by the pale air.

When we reached Dhampus, the clouds were almost black. Night came and the sky darkened only a few more shades, but the stars were all obscured. A Japanese woman, who comes to Dhampus regularly because the skies offer a completely new and clear astrological view, was disappointed. In the morning, the world was new. The sky looked as though an artist had lifted a paintbrush to the sky and the mountains resembled a watercolour painting. We headed for the roads and as we spotted the first swimming pool in days–a small rustic cemented hole, and the first car, probably half a century old, we walked unwillingly across to the pitched world.