Death Biscuits

Short Version:
A day-trip, up a hill. Another special dance, another funeral.

Stats:
Total Walk Time Day 8 = 2:30
Cumulative Total Walk Time = 34:30
Beer Time = 18:30

Long Version:
Altitude sickness is not fun, apparently. Headaches, blurry vision, nausea, other unpleasantnesses. Kind of like a hangover, only not curable with a steak, cheese and japaleno (sic) pie and a litre of chocolate milk - the cure for altitude sickness is descent. Sounds easy? So long as it's not night-time, and your onwards route isn't forward and up, maybe. At any rate, we didn't want it, ergo precautions:
- walk slowly
- spread significant climbs across several days
- climb and descend to help acclimatisation

Climb and descend we had covered, having taken the high road from Pisang to Manang. Walking slowy we'd been doing since the start of the trek. And now we stay an extra day in Manang, to help our bodies adjust to how high above sea level we've come: Manang is at 3,519m

So, a good night's sleep, then a restful day, another good night's sleep, and we'll be ready to roll!

Or, of course, we could have a shitty night's sleep, courtesy of homeward-bound local yakherders partying it up and having massive-volume cellphone conversations. Outside our room. All blimmin night.

Then, instead of rest, we could go for a walk. Up a hill. A big hill. And for anyone reading this who's not been to altitude, even when you're not sick, doing anything is significantly more difficult than it is in the lowlands; strolling along the flat is enough to get one's lungs burning and heart pumping, let alone walking up steep hills. Or having snow fights. Or doing a special dance* to celebrate being higher than the highest point in New Zealand, which is Aoraki/Mt Cook at 3,754m.

The site of the dance was another Buddhist holy spot - they like high places - with a seasonal yakherd village nestled in at the base. Patches of snow lay all around, prayer flags fluttered in the fresh breeze, an enormous glacier hung high in the valley between Annapurna II and Gangapurna... and down below, the Buddhists prepared a fiery farewell for one of their departed.

We were too far away (up, mainly) to see much detail of the funerary proceedings, but it was still interesting. And, when we eventually made it back to Manang after a couple of goat-heavy detours and found our way (somehow!) to the Buddhist temple, we found an extra-special ceremony in progress, to honour the deceased. They invited us in, gave us popcorn and packets of biscuits**, and bade us watch, and listen. Which we did, rapt. Drums, with curved beating sticks! Gongs! Cymbals! Clarinetty oboeish trumpetlike horn things! Lot of chanting!

When we leave, we get blasted with holy smoke(!), then make our way past projector houses (mountain-oriented movies for trekkers on their extra-day layover) and some fairly distinctive architecture: houses are 2-storey beasts, with an enclosed courtyard extending the lower floor area outside, providing the household animals wonderful indoor/outdoor flow. The people live in the upper storey of the house, and extend their living area up onto the flat roof, generally using ladders made from tree trunks (they look like prtially-completed dugout canoes stood on end). Often, the divide between storeys is obvious from the outside, as the stone wall is broken by a piece of timber, oftentimes resting upon goat horns that protrude from between the stones. Occasionally dangerously.

Back at the lodge, we stare fixedly at the mountains that surround us on all sides. They're enormous, and marvellous. Then we eat food and go to bed happy. But not for long...






* = Not dissimilar to the dance from 11:11:11 on 11/11/11. Maybe more pointing and other arm gesticulating, less energetic jumping.

** = Plain crackers for the Puppet, Chocolate creams for everyone else. Cue much complaining.