Eating dirt in the Kali Gandaki river valley

Day 3: Muktinath to Marpha

I taste dirt.
After a two-hour march through the ripping wind we had been warned about for days, my cheeks sting and my teeth are coated with a fine, ash-like film that I can’t wash out no matter how much I spit. Danu and Laxmi, our petite female porters, are holding hands to keep from toppling under the weight of our packs and the 50 mph gusts that greet us at every corner. Just beyond the twisting, sand-filled microburst in the distance behind me, I can see our guide Renuka barreling across the dry river bed in desperate pursuit of her tattered white cap. “It was a gift from my sister,” she explains, as she returns to my side, out of breath. “If I lost it, she would be sad.”

This has been a trip about sisterhood.

With each day, the bond between the five of us grows stronger. Kim – who the girls call “sudra” or beauty – has warmed to our diminutive but bold young porters. She asks frequently about boyfriends (which they shyly insist they have never had) and gets a kick out of their giggles. Meanwhile I have become awed by our guide Renuka. Her English is near perfect. Her knowledge of the mountains, and flora, and religious artifacts among us is astounding. And she possesses a wisdom and self-confidence that defies her early twentysomething age and her heritage as a Nepalese female raised in a poor, rural region where cattle are often treated better than women.

Finally, the inhospitable high desert of Mustang gives way to fertile creek-side apple and peach orchards and tidy villages of narrow alleyes, whitewashed stone, and friendly Tibetan innkeepers. Occasionally we spot the letteres YCL (for Youth Communist League) graffitid on a pole, reminding us that the Maoist conflict is far from over - we are told that YCL is the most radical and violent branch of the Maoist insurgency.
The only big downside to this stretch of the trek is the road: a new addition which has brought Land Rovers carrying food and drinks for tourists, but ironically driven many visitors away by its mere presence. (Many now end the Annapurna Circuit trek in Jomsom). For us, it has been a blessing and a curse, delivering the occasional blast of tailpipe smog, but creating distance between us and the masses. When we land in Marpha, we have it all to ourselves.

We let the girls use our hot shower and then accompany them to the cozy, empty dining room, where they crack lentils out of the seed for fresh Dal bat, paint their fake nails hot pink, and watch a Bollywood Teleserial (Danu’s favorite) while we sip hot tea and play cards. So many wild contrasts in this room. But we all settle in for a meal together as if we have known each other for all of our lives. As if we were sisters.

Tomorrow: To Ghasa.