Among the chortens

Shyam Saran takes a trek to Langtang, 2 years after he had to abandon it when the earthquake struck

Nepal’s Langtang Valley has long been a favourite destination for trekkers from across the world. The Langtang river that gives the valley its name threads through a forbidding landscape of snow-capped mountain peaks, interspersed with meadows of dense green grass and clusters of iris, primula and daisies. These meadows attract herds of wild yak and blue sheep, which in turn are preyed upon by the rare snow leopard that still lurks in the snowy heights. But Langtang, a village of some 50 families, running modest lodges for tourists and trekkers, was wiped out in the devastating earthquake of April 25, 2015. A vast avalanche triggered by the earthquake buried the village and most of its inhabitants under a vast layer of rock, sand and mud. 

A friend and I were in Kathmandu on our way to Langtang for a trek when the earthquake struck. The proposed trek had to be abandoned and we returned home. I had little expectation of being able to undertake the trek for several years thereafter. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that the Langtang route was now open and trekkers were once again headed to its fabled environs.

Last month, my son and I decided to join them, and it proved to be a memorable experience.  Our journey coincided more or less with the second anniversary of the tragic disaster and hence took on the character of part adventure, part pilgrimage and part celebration of the human spirit as surviving families rebuild their modest homesteads and their lives.

The Langtang trek involved an eight-hour road journey virtually due north from Kathmandu, along the valley of the Trishuli River. This was a depressing journey not because of the poor road but because virtually the entire stretch of this sacred river, said to have emerged from Shiva’s trident, is being degraded and irretrievably damaged by extensive sand mining. What is worse, most of the sand is exported across the border to India.

The road head is the small town of Syabrubesi that lies within the Langtang National Park. From Syabrubesi, the trail leads into the valley of the Langtang River, which is a tributary to the Trishuli. The valley is one of the most picturesque in Nepal because it has high mountains both to its north and south. 

To the south is the towering and almost symmetrically triangular peak of Ganchenpo Gompa, while towards the north and east is the main Langtang Lirung range with its several snow-capped peaks. The trail runs through thick green forests, which at this time of the year are full of rhododendron trees, laden with white, pink and bright red blossoms. 

There are forests of ancient oak, cedar, maple and chestnut trees as one steps into the higher altitudes. The people inhabiting the small mountain villages are mainly Tibetan with a sprinkling of Sherpa families. But they call themselves Tamang, one of Nepal’s major ethnic groups, for the practical purpose of obtaining local citizenship. No one seems to mind.

The main stops as one climbs steadily upstream are the villages of Lama Hotel, Ghoda Tabela, Langtang, Mundu and finally Kyanjin Gompa. The journey from Syabrubesi to Kyanjin Gompa took us three days and a steady ascent from 1,350 metres to 3,500 metres.  We stayed at Kyanjin  Gompa for three days. From there we undertook day-long excursions to the high meadows of Langshisha Kharka that lie in the folds of the mountains overlooking the Langtang River.  

We also climbed the Tserko Ri peak. It is an arduous and almost vertical climb of over a thousand metres but for the brave and determined, the views from the top are breathtaking. 

Photos: Shyam Saran and Nakul Saran

The weather was mostly kind to us except for the occasional rain and snow. Heavy rain soaked us to our skin on our way to Lama Hotel the very first day, but there was bright sun the next day. It is usually the case in the mountains that the skies are clear in the forenoon but then clouds start building up in the afternoon. In Kyanjin Gompa, we had snowfall on two of the nights we were there, but the mornings were crisp and clear. 

We stayed at modest lodges with basic amenities at most places. We were surprised at the number of foreign trekkers we encountered en route, which is good for the local communities who have lost so much to the earthquake. There were several Korean groups and the lodges enticed them with the promise of spicy kimchi, or pickled cabbage, and fried rice. We stuck to the local dal-bhat, or rice and lentils, which is wholesome and nutritious. But we often added a fried egg and kimchi for variety. 

Every lodge provides ginger lemon tea, which is popular with trekkers irrespective of nationality.

Several of the lodges we stayed in had been newly built after the earthquake. Some had quaint names. One of my favourites was a lodge at the edge of the Langtang village: Make Me Very Happy Guest House.

An old Tibetan woman at Kyanjin Gompa

It was on the second day of our trek that we witnessed the dramatic change in landscape wrought by the 2015 earthquake and the massive avalanches that it unleashed on the Langtang valley. From Ghoda Tabela, the trail opened out to a relatively wide valley.  In the distance, the glistening white peaks of Langshisha and Langtang Lirung were now visible. We then climbed up a narrow ridge and there in front of us was a vast grey field of large boulders, rocks and sand, the remains of the huge avalanche and under which the entire village of Langtang and several of its residents and visitors now lie buried.

Picking our way over this virtual graveyard was eerie particularly when there was still an odd shoe here, a broken cooking utensil there, the twisted frame of a door and clothing scattered across this vast wasteland. Some new houses have come up at the far edge of the valley and there is a memorial that lies on the side of our track, festooned with prayer flags. 

Saran, with the Langtang Lirung mountain behind him

From the local people and a few Western tourists we learnt that on April 25, which marks the second anniversary of the earthquake, the memorial would be formally inaugurated. The names of those who lost their lives in the avalanche, both Nepali and foreigners, have been inscribed on a marble plate at the memorial that is designed to look like the many chortens that dot  the landscape in these parts.

The track to Kyanjin Gompa was lined by a low wall of ancient mani-stones that stretches on for several kilometres. They had guided pilgrims to an ancient monastery that existed in Langtang until it was wiped out in the earthquake. Now the mani walls lead to nowhere but still bestow blessings on travellers who pass by their side. 

On the way, we encountered several young men and women who were marking the second anniversary of the earthquake by running a marathon from Kyanjin Gompa all the way to Syabrubesi. The marathon would raise much needed funds for reconstruction in the Langtang Valley. 

We enjoyed our stay in Kyanjin Gompa. Our lodge was small but clean and surprisingly well appointed. It had Western toilets, solar-heated showers and a wood-fired stove in the common dining room, which kept us warm during the cold evenings.

During our exploration of the Langshisha Kharka, we often came across wild yaks grazing in the rich pastures. We were fortunate to run into a large herd of blue sheep that are found only at high altitudes but are usually very shy. There were at least 20 animals walking up from the river to the mountainside. They were large and had very thick and rich brown coats. Some stopped to view us with curiosity but then scampered up the steep slope and were soon lost to view.

We began our return journey on May 1, retracing our steps to Ghoda Tabela where we stopped for the night. The weather still held and we had incredible views of snow-capped mountains etched against deep blue skies. 

At Ghoda Tabela, we discovered that the few lodges there had all been occupied by large trekking groups from Korea. We had to make do with a tent kindly put up for us by one of the lodges. It was surprisingly comfortable and warm. At night we were treated to a bejewelled, star-studded sky, something we no longer see in our cities. Every constellation was visible and the Milky Way never seemed bright and dense as this.

We decided to take a somewhat different route back to Syabrubesi. From the village of Rimni just beyond Lama Hotel, there is an alternate track leading up to the village of Sherpagaon. It was a pleasant walk, though the trail was steep in some stretches. Here too, the rhododendrons were in full bloom but we were again depressed to see a large number of trees cut down and thrown down the hillside to make way for a transmission line. This track will soon become a motorable road, for which more trees will be cut. I am glad we decided to do this trek now. We spent the night in a lodge run by a Tibetan lady. We were the only guests. Few trekkers use this route.

A lone yak plays sentinel en route to Langshisha Kharka

We left early next morning but the path was slushy and slippery after a night of rain. After crossing a high ridge marked by an ancient and crumbling chorten, the path began to descend sharply and soon the town of Syabrubesi was visible in the distance. One could even hear the sound of horns of trucks making their way to the town on the narrow mountain highway. Right in front is the Ganesh Himal range, but clouds soon cover the high peaks. We were now in a sub-tropical forest and the air was warm. On the side of the track are bushes laden with raspberries that were particularly tasty when plucked in the wild.

Nearer the town we traversed a large patch of marijuana plants. Surprisingly, there were several goats munching away on their leaves and we wondered if they too must get high!

Our trek was soon over and the next day we drove back to Kathmandu. Langtang lived up to its reputation as one of the more magical destinations in Nepal. And yet, in the midst of its ethereal beauty also lay a destructive power that laid to waste an entire valley and its unfortunate inhabitants. One soaks in the fragile beauty of towering mountains and the lush green landscape, but Langtang is also a testimony to the immense destructive power of Nature, against whose anger there is no refuge.
 

Shyam Saran is a former foreign secretary and an avid trekker