Nepalese Notebook: September 20th, 2014

September 20th, 2014

Dharamsala 4460m.

Clouds and rain; cold and rough all day.  Life is very rudimentary here, the lodgings as well.  The Budi Gadanki, the river that we have followed for a week and a half now, passes us by as a small stream in the far-off expanse, something one would not easily recognize, nor give any importance to, had they not seen it swirling past them in Arughat.  Though we could see it become smaller and more rapid each day, it did not seem that it would actually disappear into the ground, or begin falling from a glacier, apart of the glacier itself even, and of the snow last night--but that's what seems to be the source of all things: there but not there.  It is hard enough to rectify this sentiment throughout the long chain of events we live, and whether it is because of the high opinion of ourselves or the low opinion we have of the things around us, the movement is never really close to what we expect its nature to be.  Now that the river is but a small stream, I can clearly say that I knew it would be all along, and even in Arughat I could've said this, but in reality I hadn't a clue.  Though some things seem less important to their surroundings, they are not; they are there, but not there, even when they seem to take on a greater importance.

The weather has kept us in all day.  Although once or twice we went out to look around, our adventure was terminated soon enough because we could only see the dull ground at our feet.  Nonetheless, to go to the bathroom was one of the exciting moments of the day.  From our arrival at about 11:30 in the morning until dinner that evening, the keeper of the place made one or two appearances, the last of which was to stumble through the door in such an odd and drunken manner, falling face first onto a pile of covers and to a long profound sleep, that I will never forget such a thing for as long as I live.  The other was, from what I could understand, to tell a series of stories, which had the other guides and porters laughing hysterically.  The whole atmosphere in the room though was dismal and depressing.  Everyone felt a little bit trapped, at a loss for words, trying to hold off sleep.  The altitude, it is said, is a great deterrent of sleep, so up here one doesn't go to sleep unless he absolutely needs to, otherwise he might spend a wakeful night, and the day after not be able to fulfill what is expected.  Larkya La Pass will be a difficult crossing tomorrow, and even though we try to imagine where we are and what tomorrow will bring, we are ready for bed.

Douglas Thornton