The elusive Himalayas

 

At the little outdoor cafe in Dhampus, waiting...

(Image credit: my dear friend, Deepa)

Encounters with high mountains burn the fat off one’s soul ~ Ernest Hemingway

In April 2019, my best friend Deepa and I visited Nepal to catch up with an old friend, and to catch a glimpse of the magestic Himalayas, perhaps even it’s highest peak, Mt. Everest!

After the chaos and crowds of Kathmandu, Nepal’s capital city, we travelled to the lake district of Pokhara, which boasted amazing views of the Annapurna range of the Himalayas on a clear day. But we were greeted by cloudy skies. We waited patiently a few of days, taking in the local sights and sounds around Lake Phewa, and I even got to realize my long-cherished dream of Paragliding. Undoubtedly one of the BEST experiences I’ve ever had, it’s the closest I’ve ever come to flying, and it took my breath away and made me feel “free as a bird” for a while—but I will save that story for another day.

Disappointed by the cloudy skies and no sign of the mountains yet, we decided to trek up to the little village of Dhampus—to get away from the crowd of tourists, and experience a more rustic scene—but also in the hope that being highter up will give us a better chance of catching a glimpse of the beautiful Himalayas. After a 2 hour back-breaking trek up hundreds of stone steps, lugging our heavy backpacks with us, we reached the picturesque village of Dhampus. The difficult journey had it’s rewards—wildflowers, plateaus of green paddy fields, amazing views of the valley below and the green hills around us, even vultures circling overhead (which we jokingly said were waiting for one of us to drop in exhaustion!)—but still no sign of the mountains.

The view from midway up the trail from Phedi to Dhampus

When we reached Dhampus—once again, we were greeted by cloudy skies. The locals kept pointing to places in the sky where the mountains usually were, but all we could see were overcast skies. We stayed at a small bed and breakfast place with it’s small outdoor cafe and colourful prayer flags flying in the wind, and were happy for a hot meal, a bath and a warm bed for the night. Deepa and I awoke early the next morning—it was cold, but we wrapped ourselves up, and, armed with steaming mugs of coffee, we sat at the outdoor cafe waiting for Sunrise—in the hope that the warmth of the sun will clear the clouds enough to catch a glimpse of the snow-capped mountains. As we waited, the sun rose behind the veil of clouds, but the skies remained a dull gray. Deepa played with the cats at the hotel, and I sat doodling on a piece of paper, and eventually sketching the beautiful rustic landscape of Dhampus—mesmerizing, as we waited patiently.

The product of all that patient waiting..

Suddenly, without warning, the hotel in-charge ran towards us pointing up at the sky. I had my back to where the mountains were (I couldn’t have known because there was nothing there all this while), and as I turned, I saw a patch of sky slowly clearing, and suddenly this massive snow-covered mountain peak appeared out of nowhere—Annapurna. It took my breath away! Although it was the clouds that were moving, it looked like the mountain was moving and making way for itself amidst a sea of clouds—a veritable iceberg in the sky! It only lasted a couple of minutes, just enough time for me to grab my phone and take a few pictures, and then further away I caught a glimpse of the “fish tail” mountain, Machapuchare, the sun glinting off the “fish tail” shaped peak—and then it was all gone—lost in the swirling mists, like it had never happened—like it was just a dream.

The reward - Annapurna

If anything, that one magical glimpse left us wanting more—longing for just one more view of the beautiful Himalayas. We stayed a few more days in Dhampus, walking around the village, visiting a Buddhist monastery, hiking through the beautiful countryside, but we never caught sight of the mountains again—hills all around us, but no Himalayas in sight.

We headed back to Kathmandu, and the locals told us about Nagarkot, a one hour drive uphill from Kathmandu, where on a clear day, one can catch a glimpse of Mt. Everest, the tallest and most spectacular peak in the Himalayas. We needed to try—one last attempt. On the morning of our departure, an hour before sunrise, we took an early morning cab ride in a rickety old cab, its windows falling to pieces, holes in the floorboard through which we could literally see the pot-holed roads of Kathmandu, racing with the sun, eager to arrive at the viewpoint just before sunrise (that’s when you had the best chance of seeing the peak, we were told—just as the sun was rising, melting away the clouds and casting its golden light on the mountains). When we reached the view point, it was still cloudy, and we were the only ones there, save for one more determined soul—a local photographer. As we waited and waited, sunrise turned into late morning, but the clouds stayed put. Then the photographer came over and told us not to feel too badly, he said in all his life in Kathmandu, he had only ever caught a glimpse of Mt. Everest about 3 times! That’s how rare it was to have a clear sky in that part of the world!

As we boarded our flight back home, we felt a bit cheated. In our search for the elusive Himalayas, we had only caught one glimpse of the beautiful snow-capped peaks in our entire 2 weeks in Nepal. As the plane took off, I wished that somehow we would see the mountains from up there perhaps, but then realized we would be flying south, so that was highly unlikely (What I didn’t know was that the plane was making another stop at Delhi airport first, meaning, we would be flying parallel to the Himalayan mountain range for a while!). I looked out at the sea of clouds below me, feeling dejected. And suddenly both Deepa and I saw something amazing—we could not believe our eyes—it looked like an eye in the sky, opening up in the bank of clouds below—and there rising magestically out of the eye-shaped opening, were snow-covered mountain peaks—icebergs in the sky! When I saw those icy peaks emerging from the clouds like a Divine “eye in the sky”, I knew I was witnessing Divinity manifest in Creation—the Source of everything. I can only assume one of them was Mt.Everest, being the highest peak and high enough to tower over the thick swirling clouds. The pilot made an announcement over the intercom that we were passing the Himalayas now, and most everyone just ignored the announcement. But Deepa had tears in her eyes, and I felt the Universe move within my being—“Seek, and you shall find”(Matthew 7:7)—as we soaked in our last rewarding view of the elusive Himalayas.

View of the Himalayas from the plane - the peaks piercing through the clouds

And, when you want something, all the universe conspires in helping you to achieve it. ~ Paulo Coelho

Nature is the first Bible ~ Fr. Richard Rohr

* Dedicated to "The Terrible Twins", a term coined by my dearest Dad. :)