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| Manaslu at 8163m is the 8th highest mountain in the world |
I’m not very sure how to approach writing this, there is
just so much to say about this race so I guess the beginning is as good a place
to start as anywhere. The beginning was in crazy, vibrant, dusty Kathmandu where
I was collected from the airport and deposited sleepy and bemused at the race
HQ, the appropriately named Hotel Manaslu from where we received the race
briefing, met our fellow competitors, were allocated a room-mate and generally
organised ourselves for the 10 day adventure ahead. Bags were packed and
re-packed and weighed to make sure they met the regulation 10kg weight. Then
re-packed again. And any last minute
purchases were made. The race briefing was light hearted and every runner had
to introduce themselves with a wee statement, who they were and what bought
them to this event in Nepal. We were treated to two lovely meals in Kathmandu,
one of these at a very traditional restaurant where we were entertained by
dancers and, quite randomly, a man in a giant peacock costume and where we all
had to sit on the floor cross legged at the table - which is no mean feat for a
distance runner to manage.
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| Boudhanath Stupa, Kathmandu |
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| Colourful shops and stalls |
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| Eilidh turning the prayer wheels |
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| Ready for the race briefing |
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| The race director |
There were 38 runners in the race, all from different
backgrounds and the usual mix of very competitive people such as the strong
Nepalese contingent who were most certainly the race favourites and justifiably
so and then there were those just hoping to get round. Personally I went to
Manaslu viewing this as a race, a chance to redeem myself for my DNF at Monte Rosa earlier that Autumn and initially my main concern was to justify my place on the startline - I just couldnt fail again. However what started as a race soon developed into something that was more akin to a journey, at times I felt great, at times I felt terrible, there were laughs and tears, friendships made and there was the joy in discovering this wonderful and amazing country.
From Kathmandu we were all transported by bus to the start
at the riverside village of Soti Kola and this was a very long 10 hour bus ride
on bumpy tracks, everywhere and everything seemed to be covered in a fine layer
of dust and I noticed people in Kathmandu wore face masks to protect themselves
from the dust and fumes. As we neared our overnight stop the bus juddered to a
halt in the darkness and the driver hopped out, the “road” apparently required
inspection to see if it was safe to pass. The conclusion was yes, it was safe
and we bounced along the track on our way grateful that it was dark, figuring
by this time that ignorance was bliss.
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| The high mountains in the distance |
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| A bus on the dusty track |
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| Stopping for a break on the long bus journey to the start |
Tired we reached our overnight accommodation, perched on the
banks of the roaring river and after food and hot drinks myself and my
room-mate Bev sorted our bags for the morning and attempted to get an early
night. The teahouse was peaceful and so tired out after so much travelling I
managed to get a good nights sleep which was a good thing given what lay ahead.
STAGE 1 – Soti Kola
to Tatopani (22km approx.)
The following morning we deposited our bags in a pile ready
to be loaded on to the Mules, ate breakfast and then followed Richard to the
start line. The nervous anticipation was palpable, it was all starting to feel
very real and I was eager to get started and, after a quick race briefing, we
were off. We had been told that Stage 1 sort of followed the river and it did
so by snaking up the mountainside high above the river to a little village
perched up on the hillside. I really started to enjoy myself running on those
trails through thick vegetation in glorious sunshine and past little houses
perched on the mountainside. Working hard on this relentless climb I was rewarded
with tantalising views of the river far below, endless jungle around me,
villages clinging precariously to the hillside with their cultivated terraces
stretching down below and of mighty peaks in the distance. This was the type of
running I enjoy and unusually for a runner I relish heat. Apparently bears and
monkeys populate these slopes and although I kept a keen look out my wildlife
tally for the day amounted to chickens, goats and a spider of rather an alarming
size. Finally I reached the little village at the top of the hill and prepared
to tackle the descent, it was a steep descent on a loose sandy trail but not
too technical and I could glimpse through the trees and see the valley and the
route stretching ahead past another village. After the checkpoint it was a case
of following the river to the village of Tatopani and our overnight stop.
Tatopani means “hot water” and the natural hot thermal springs pouring down
from the mountain were a delightful treat at the end of the day. After a wash,
endless tea and biscuits we waited until the Mule trains arrived with our kit
bags. As we had been warned the temperature decreases rapidly after the sun
drops behind the mountains and we were all glad when our kit arrived.
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| The luggage transport |
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| Competitors bags waiting to be loaded on the mules |
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| On our way to the start |
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| Stage briefing by Richard |
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| Villages and terraces clinging to the hillside |
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| Following the trail with the river far below |
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| Orange tape marked the way |
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| The finish at Tatopani |
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| Relaxing after stage one |
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| Enjoying the hot springs |
Kit
Our kit bags had to
weigh a max of 10kg each to allow them to be transported by Mule. So what does
10kg of kit look like? Well first off a good sleeping bag fills up much of the
space but is a very important item, I don’t recommend skimping on that. I
settled for taking 2 pairs of running shoes, one to run in and one for kicking
about in post run. A down jacket is also a must as is a windproof jacket and
trousers. (5 days in though and I rapidly came to the conclusion that two down
jackets were a must.) A Nalgene bottle for hot water and a cup are needed too
as well as your “race food” for 9 days which for most people comprised bars and
gels and my own personal race favourites of Snickers and Nakd Bakewell bars.
The rest of the space was taken up with as many thermal tops, t-shirts and
fleeces that I could cram in as well as hats and gloves. I limited myself to 3
pairs of socks for the 9 days of the event so as you can imagine by the end of
3 days I could have pinned the race number to a sock and it could have finished
the race itself. Toilet roll is another necessity as it is not supplied. There
were some showers available but for me the advantages of having a lukewarm
shower was always weighed up against how cold I would be with wet hair after
sundown. In some places we stayed showers were not an option and so wet wipes
really came into their own. Basically everything other than the clothes you
were running in had to go into this bag and weigh less than 10kg so best leave
the hairdryer and straightening tongs at home.
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| The mules arrive with our bags |
STAGE 2 –Tatopani to
Pewa (29.7km approx.)
Same routine as the previous morning – get the bags packed
up and handed over to the mule handlers, breakfast and then ready to go. The
day seemed to be marginally cooler, indicative maybe of the height that we had
gained. The path followed the river bank through a deep gorge, todays route
being described as “Nepali flat” and took in some exciting metal footbridges
and a walkway that seemed to be precariously attached to the cliff. I did my
best not to look down. At times the gorge widened to expose a wide river bed
where people and animals were making their way over the stony silty ground
alongside the glacial waters. Again and again the path rose and fell, leaving
and joining the river bank where pale blue glacial waters swirled past. Another
timber bridge had to be crossed which seemed to have been taken straight out an
Indiana Jones movie, rickety, loose planks and holes in the side metal mesh
panels, all that was missing were the gun wielding baddies and a few crocodiles
below. If the days running had not raised my heart rate then this bridge
crossing did as I tiptoed across it gingerly wondering if the mule trains also
came this way. If it can support a mule or two then it can support my weight,
right? Eventually I reached the overnight stop at Pewa and I was glad that I
had packed a jacket with me as this teahouse was deep in a valley from where
the sun dropped early to give way to a cold starry night.
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| This walkway above the river was a wee bit scary |
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| They reapired a hole in the bridge by sticking rocks in the holes! |
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| Stage 2 checkpoint |
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| Yikes! |
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| The sun dropped quicky behind the mountains |
Mules
Mules were used to
transport our kit between stages which they did with remarkable efficiency. One
of the hazards of the trail though was trying to pass by the mule trains on the
narrow mountain paths. For the record mules are large, stubborn, bad tempered
and rather aromatic. And they didn’t seem to like me. We had been told to
always pass the mule trains by staying to the mountain side of the path as a
mule could easily knock you off the path into the ravine. I tried to stick to
this instruction until I found myself being crushed up against a rock face by a
fully laden mule (stuck between a mule and a hard place?) I ducked under its
neck only for it to turn sharply and propel me off the edge of the path.
Fortunately the dense undergrowth stopped my fall and I was hauled out of the
shrubbery by an alarmed looking porter. I picked the leaves out my hair, dusted
myself down and continued on my way but from then on was far less timid around
these creatures and had no hesitation in walloping mules on the backside to
make them move out my way. Mule 1 – Louise 0.
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| A traffic jam on the trail |
STAGE 3 - Pewa to Hinang
Gompa (Approx 29k)
After my mule related incident of the previous day today was
all about monkeys and lizards that darted over the path in front of me. Three
monkeys shot out of the undergrowth in front of me, chattering and shrieking.
One of them stopped on the path in front of me and appeared to be eyeing me up.
Yikes – a stand off! Hmmm….I stopped and wondered whether I should throw some
item of food in his direction to distract him while I made my get away…I wonder
if he’d like a gel…Eventually I decided to take a photo and after one final
look at me he followed his friends and disappeared into the undergrowth. Today
we had definitely left the warmer climates and the villages we passed through
appeared more Tibetan in character with prayer flags adorning structures on the
hillside and cairns covered in stones carved with symbols. Today I really felt
as though we were really in the mountains and today’s stage felt harder than
the previous two, maybe the altitude was beginning to take effect. Again the
trail was relentlessly undulating until finally I passed through a field of
Yak, the first I had seen and I was quite excited by this (sad, I know), and
ran into the ground of the brightly coloured Hinang Gompa monastery where we
were staying for the night. We sat around in glorious sunshine until the cold
descended at sundown with the Nepalese runners entertaining us with their singing,
eating noodle soup that Lizzy had organised for us all on finishing and waiting
for the eventual arrival of the mules once darkness had fallen. Our
accommodation for the night was in the monastery dorms which was quite
entertaining and fortunately there didn’t seem to be any snorers in our group.
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| Carvings on the stones |
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| Prayer flags over the path |
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| A Monkey! |
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| Hinang Gompa |
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| Hinang Gompa monastery |
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| Keeping warm as the sun dropped |
Race organisation
This event is brilliantly
well organised by Richard Bull and his organisation, Trail Running Nepal.
Richard is a runner from England who liked Nepal so much he stayed. I can see
his point. Any misgivings I may have had from previous race experiences were
quickly dispelled, this was going to be a completely different experience from
the Himalayan 100 mile stage race (as fellow participants Claire and Jamie will
testify) and I would have no hesitation in doing any other events organised by
Trail Running Nepal or recommending them to anyone else. Race briefings were to
the point and filled with humour, we were never quite sure if Richard was being serious or gently mocking us, as he and his team did the most amazing job of getting 38 competitors successfully
around 9 days of the race, which must be a logistical nightmare in anyone’s
book. It should be noted though that Richard is a master of understatement, if
he says the “path climbs a bit” expect a few thousand meters of mountain to be
lying ahead of you. The legendary Lizzy Hawker was part of his team. Fresh back
from running the length of the Himalayas in some 42 days Lizzy’s job was that
of marking the course which she did by setting off each day in the early hours
of the morning long before the runners had started and, waiting in freezing
cold conditions to take the runners numbers at the higher checkpoints. That
woman is one tough cookie. The course was very well marked…apart from where
course markings in villages had been taken by curious children and where a
farmer had removed some! It was fantastic to be able to meet Lizzy and chat to
her about her experiences of the GHT. Special mention must also go to Yogesh
the team Doctor whose splendid array of exotic coloured pills assisted in
treating many competitor’s mountain related ailments.
Richard was ably assisted by Dhir, who acted as our tour guide and who had an in depth knowledge of the area that we were travelling through and every day we were woken by his cheery call of "Good Morning!". I wish i could have recorded that on to my phone as my alarm call for every morning when i was back home.
Up and coming star of
the world ultra-running scene Mira Rai was also involved, recovering from
injury at the moment her race role was that of sweeper. She has been nominated for
National Geographic’s adventurer of the year, the winner of which is due to be
announced in December. The voting is still open folks…
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| Planning race tactics in the evening. |
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| Lizzy at a high checkpoint |
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| Star runner Mira - the book is avaialble to buy on Amazon... |
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| Richard keeps an eye on the competitors on stage 5 |
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| Dhir providing our "in flight" snacks on the bus journey |
STAGE 4 - Hinang Gompa
to Samagaon via Pung gyen Gompa at 3870m (Approx 24k)
This was definitely my favourite day of the event, I really
felt as though we were in amongst the mountains now. After a tour of the temple
where we each received a silk scarf it was a level (Nepali flat!) run between
villages interspersed with a monster climb up to the most stunning plateau at
the foot of the world’s 8th highest peak. Once on the plateau it
seemed to take quite a while to reach the checkpoint and a struggle to keep
running which again I put down to the altitude. I spent some time at the
checkpoint taking in the mind blowing views and at unnervingly frequent
intervals there was a loud gunshot type sound as a wall of snow fell away and
crashed down the slopes of Manaslu. I wandered round the plateau and looked at
the houses carved into the rock, and the various small religious structures
with their prayer flags fluttering in the wind before sheltering down behind
the cairn of stones at the checkpoint to eat something. Then it was back the
way I had come, crossing the plateau and re-joining the stony track which
followed the river back down the hill almost to the long metal bridge I had
crossed earlier that day. Meeting the main track it was now a straight forward
run into the village of Samagaon, picking my way along cobbled streets, between
little stone houses and avoiding roaming yaks. Throughout the race there was a
definite feeling of moving between climatic zones as the altitude increases. In
just 4 days we had gone from hot, lush, wooded hills to stark barren snow
topped mountains.
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| We got a tour of Hinang Gompa |
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| We were each given a silk scarf |
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| An avalanche on Manaslu |
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| The wide plateau at the foot of Manaslu |
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| Structures on the cliff face |
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| Pungyen Gompa |
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| The summit of Manaslu |
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| The village of Samagaon |
Hygiene
Quite a few people
seemed to get ill with various stomach complaints during the race and hygiene
was something that you had to pay particularly close attention to. All drinking
water was filtered which definitely helped matters. Hand washing, despite the
fact that the water was freezing cold from an outside tap, was something that
was carried out obsessively as was using hand sanitiser. I used it for cleaning
lots of things, from cutlery to the rim of my tea cup (surreptitiously, under
the table, so folk didn’t think I was weird), from the bolt on the WC door to
the tops of my water bottles. When I started
to use the hand sanitiser to wash the bottle of hand sanitiser Eric, a fellow competitor,
suggested that I might have some sort of psychological issues… To be honest
though despite my diligent efforts I think whether you got sick or not was
really down to luck.
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| Washing facilities... |
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| Necessities! |
STAGE 5 - Samagaon to Manaslu Base Camp to Samagaon (Approx
13k)
This was the stage that nearly broke me, it was possibly the
hardest 13k run of my life. A 13k from Samagaon to Manaslu base camp at 4800m
and back. Initially I set off quite strongly, maybe ill-advisedly so for the
altitude, but I seemed to climb well for a while. And then disaster. I began to
struggle for air which slowed my progress and the higher I got, the slower I
got and the colder I got in the bitterly cold wind that sweeps around Manaslu.
I was almost at the stage of thinking that I wasn’t going to be able to
complete the stage and I felt as though I was hardly moving apart from
shivering violently despite by this time having pulled on a down jacket but
eventually I plodded up and along the ridge to the checkpoint. Knowing Richard
and Lizzy were both at the checkpoint made me feel uneasy, what if I wasn’t
going to allowed to continue? What if they decided that I couldn’t cope with
the altitude? Worse still, what if I couldn’t continue? Why did I feel so cold? My oxygen deprived brain could not understand
it. Although I had overtaken people on the way up I was unable to keep warm. I
tried to get as much shelter as I could behind the heap of boulders as Richard
wrapped a couple of jackets and a mountain of prayer flags round me, I was expecting
the usual slightly mocking smile but this was replaced with a look of concern. I curled down into the nest of prayer flags
and tried to eat something and take in the surroundings, watching as yet more
avalanches broke free and rolled down the side of Manaslu. Manaslu is
apparently one of the more dangerous 8000m peaks to climb (all things being
relative I suppose) and many have died on its avalanche prone slopes, indeed I
wondered if there was anyone attempting to climb it as we watched but apparently
it is now out of climbing season. The name Manaslu means “Mountain of the Spirit”
and from what I could see whatever spirit was in residence in this mountain was
possibly not the friendliest of spirits.
Wobbling and still dressed in so many clothes I resembled
the Michelin man I started to slowly pick my way down the mountain passing
William and Tone who were on the way up and who looked startled to see someone
wrapped in so many clothes. I was relieved to find that the descent route did
not include the ridge that the ascent route had and it took a long time until I
could feel my fingers again and even longer before I slowly removed the layers.
By the time some heat had returned to my body I was desperate to make up for
lost time and found the descent and long run back into Samagaon the ideal place
in which to up the pace and regain some of the time that I had lost. Such was
my panic to make up time I even managed to overtake a couple of folk on the run
back to the village.
I still couldn’t quite get warm properly that night and
slept fitfully still chilled to the bone. Feeling increasingly queasy I
struggled to eat and eventually I admitted defeat and unsure whether this was a
symptom of cold, fatigue or altitude I asked for some form of anti-nausea
medication from the race doctor.
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| The start of stage 5 |
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| The view from the trail up to Manaslu Base Camp |
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| The trail to Manaslu Base Camp |
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| Looking back along the ridge |
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| Competitors climbing towards the check point |
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| Enjoying the view |
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| Another photo of Manaslu.... just because. |
Food
Everything you eat on
this race is carried in or obtained locally and so don’t expect a whole lot of fresh fruit and veg. What there was though was
seemingly unlimited quantities of rice, pasta, porridge, chapattis, biscuits…..and
lukewarm soggy cabbage. I can digest almost anything but I have major issues
with lukewarm soggy cabbage. In fact I have nightmares about it now!. You won’t
starve although you might want to throw a peperoni sausage or a bottle of
tabasco sauce (as fellow competitor Richard did) into your packing just to give
your dinner a bit of “oomph” particularly as your appetite decreases with the
altitude and fatigue. But for the most part the food was ideal for the
conditions if not for my western palate. By day 6 I was fantasising about a fish
supper. With Heinz tomato ketchup. Food was also on offer to buy at the
teahouses but again that was mainly carb based. Beer was available
to buy too as was my own personal race favourite coca cola although the prices
of these items increased the further up the mountain you went as they all have
to be carried in. Every day we were each given a packed lunch one of the highlights
of which was a large lump of cheese. It also contained a chapatti or Tibetan
bread, a chocolate bar and a granola bar and a hardboiled egg. Peeling one of those
on the run was entertaining. Every night after serving up the chef came out of
the kitchen to receive his well-earned round of applause for the amazing job he
and his team managed. They did a fantastic job in catering for us and there was
always enough food to go round for folk to have seconds. Apart from the lukewarm
soggy cabbage. There can never be an excuse for lukewarm soggy cabbage. One
thing to be aware of is that I’ve noticed many runners state they can’t eat
within 2 or 3 hours of a race start. Here you’d better get used to it. On the
last day the most ginormous fluffy pancake appeared on my breakfast plate at
6.30am. It was the scrummiest thing I had seen all week and I promptly devoured
it just in time for the race start at 7am. Suffice to say the ginormous fluffy
pancake tasted better first time round.
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| Pre-race dinner in Kathmandu |
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| Master chef! |
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| Tea and bsicuits |
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| Warming up at the teahouse at Samagoan |
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| Post race dinner in Kathmandu |
STAGE 6 - Samagaon to
Samdo (approx. 8.1k)
The short stage! I was so looking forward to it! Only 8.1k!
So how can that have taken me so long to run? It was a nice easy trail route
with a little kick at the end as you climb up to the village. But at these
altitudes, coupled with the previous day’s miles, nothing seemed to be easy and
running seemed to have been well and truly replaced with something I refer to
as “the Himalayan shuffle”. Nonetheless I enjoyed the sunny day, the runnable
trail and the non-technical terrain. This time we were in the village of Samdo
overnight, our highest overnight point. The highlight of the day this time was
not our stage of the race but the races for the village children which were
held in the village before we set off. Fellow competitor, Rick, had the genius
idea of bringing along a football complete with pump as a prize and a polaroid
camera so that the children had a wee momento from their day. Before we started
our run we visited another temple and watched the monks paint brightly coloured
wooden masks for their forthcoming festival then we walked up to the stunning
glacial lake of Birenda Tal shimmering in the sunshine at the base of mighty
Manaslu to start the next stage. At the end of the stage we were treated to a
tour around a temple in Samdo where the Buddhist scriptures were unwrapped from
their silk shrouding for us to see the precious parchments. I got a feeling
that we were indeed very privileged and were witnessing something very few
other visitors to the village would have been able to see. Next it had been
arranged for us to visit some houses in the village, the first one had me
coughing and struggling for breath as smoke from the fire in the centre of the
house filled the dark interior of the room. The second house was two storey,
the animals living on the ground floor along with the farmer’s precious supply
of potatoes and salt, to be used as a preservative in the winter. He also
opened up a drum of suspect looking liquid and indicated to us that this was
drinkable….and alcoholic. The hardness and simplicity of the lives of the
villagers was truly humbling, they had so little and yet the farmer’s wife
insisted on giving us all some dried yak cheese from her precious and limited
supplies.
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| The prize is awarded to the first runner |
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| The competitors in the childrens race |
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| Monks painting masks |
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| Manaslu and lake Birenda Tal |
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| Stage 6 - it was a nice runnable trail |
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| A wee climb up to the village of Samdo |
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| Samdo |
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| These precious parchments were unwrapped for us to see |
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| Preparing yak meat and drying out yak dung which is burned as fuel |
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| A winter store of salt and potatoes...and moonshine! |
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| Yak |
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| We all got to taste dried yak cheese |
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| Exploring the village of Samdo |
Training
This had not really
gone to plan. A DNF at Monte Rosa had left me desperately needing to find
something to finish my year off with and no sooner had this race caught my
attention than the first niggles of plantar fasciitis struck. Having been laid
off for months at a time by this previously I immediately stopped training. The
weekly mileage was finished off in the gym, spin bike and pool and I limited
myself to weekends on the hills plus one or two other hill runs including hill
reps if my foot was not too sore. Having to go to sleep wearing a large plastic
night splint on your foot is not great at the best of times but 2 weeks before
a race like Manaslu really doesn’t do wonders for your confidence. My training
was not ideal and probably shouldn’t be imitated by anyone wanting to do this
race.
STAGE 7- Samdo to Rui
La Pass (4900m) to Samdo
An optional day. The chance of a rest day. So, so SO
tempting… yet the other option was the chance of an acclimatisation trek up to
the Rui La Pass and to the Nepal-Tibet border. It was a no brainer. Richard had
taken a wee roll call of those wanting to do the trek but by morning the lure of
the sleeping bag had seen that number decrease somewhat. Those still keen set
off along the valley with Lizzy as our guide setting the pace. I kept up with
her for a few of the flatter miles and then as we started climbing for real I realised
that was futile and she was gone. The high point of the pass was over 4900m and
it not being a “race stage” I took my time plodding up the hill enjoying yet
more glorious Himalayan sunshine and views beyond anything I had seen before.
The landscape was very barren and the rocky summits stood in stark contrast to
the deep, dark blue skies above. A final sharp pull up a fine scree covered
slope and I was at the pass, a concrete block with Nepalese writing on one side
and Chinese writing on the other and a large cairn covered in prayer flags
indicating the border between the two countries. On the Tibetan (Chinese?) side
I was amazed to see a wide landrover track complete with a 20mph road sign in
contrast to the little single track I had just climbed on the Nepalese side. I
ventured over into Tibet and then wondered if the Chinese had snipers on the
border so I scurried back to safety of Nepal. While I was doing this Eilidh and
Ewen had been fossil hunting and found some impressive examples of ammonites….hang
on, they are sea creatures aren’t they? So at some point in the very distant
past this pass at nearly 5000m was at sea level? It’s hard to get your head
round that one. The return trek to the village was uneventful and I was happy
to have made it before sundown as already the cold wind was making itself felt.
I had felt remarkably good throughout the day so felt hopeful that tomorrows ascent
over the 5106m pass wouldn’t present too many difficulties. What could possibly
go wrong?
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| Setting off towards the Rui La Pass |
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| Yak roaming the hillside |
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| Following the trail up to the pass |
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| Tibet! |
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| Looking back into Nepal |
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| A speed limit sign on the Tibetan side |
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| Heading back to Samdo |
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| The sun disappeared behind the mountainside and the temperature fell |
Altitude and sun
We were told about the
dangers of altitude by the race doctor who assisted anyone who was struggling
with doses of Diamox but happily nobody seemed to be so badly affected that
they couldn’t complete the race. Like most people I struggled to breathe at
times and I took every chance that I was offered to go to higher altitudes to acclimatise,
drank a lot of water to keep hydrated and fortunately I did not suffer from any
headaches. The race organisation got the acclimatisation programme pretty well
spot on for us with the age old rule of “climb high, sleep low”. A quick glance
at some trekking guides and lonely planet guides suggest that the Manaslu
circuit should be done between 12-18 days. We were doing it in 8. One night I
was very nauseous and couldn’t eat so took a tablet from the doctor and by the
morning I was fine again but I have no idea of this was caused by altitude or
by the accumulation of factors such as tiredness, cold etc. Another interesting
symptom of the altitude was that my hands swelled up like small balloons, I was
glad I wasn’t wearing any jewellery but the swelling subsided quickly on
descent to lower altitudes. We were lucky and the weather was very settled with
no nasty surprises. This is one race I would hate to run in a storm or a
blizzard. From the hot humid early stages to the biting cold of the high passes
the sun shone brightly. Aware of the dangers of the relentless strength of the
sun at altitude I took care to cover any exposed skin with sun cream, even to
the extent of taking it with me during the race stages and applying more when I
stopped at checkpoints. A buff and a cap
were also useful yet that still didn’t stop the skin around my nose and lips
cracking painfully. A situation not helped by the cold I developed after day 2
of the race meant my nose was just about rubbed raw and I finished a few stages
with blood over my lips and teeth.
STAGE 8 Samdo to Bimtang
via the Larkya La pass at 5106m
For part of this stage we were to be guided by the brightest
moon since 1948, a so-called super moon, as we set out at 4.30am to cross the
highest mountain pass of the trail, the Larkya La pass at 5106m altitude. We set
off in a large group, the torch lights snaking up the mountainside, and
proceeded slowly giving the altitude the respect it deserves. This stage
involved some icy river crossings which the Nepalese helpers in the race
organisation attempted to assist us with. As far as I could work out though
this assistance amounted to giving me a shove into the river to ensure that I
had icy wet cold feet so possibly this was assistance I could have done
without. The early start gave us the chance to view the magnificent spectacle
of the sun rising over Manaslu but this time the sun didn’t seem to contain
much warmth and I was glad of the second down jacket that Richard had loaned
me. My water bottles in my back pack had frozen so I gave up on the idea of
drinking anything until we reached the stopping point on the hillside where tea
was available. By then I was starving and drank a lot of hot tea although my water
bottles were still frozen. It was a long slow slog up to the pass and having
felt great the previous day I was a little surprised and disappointed to be not
feeling so great today. Maybe in my enthusiasm to get to see Tibet I had worked
too hard the previous day and had left myself fatigued. There was nothing else
for it but to keep plodding upwards over the frozen lakes and boulder strewn
slopes and to try and distract myself by looking at the views over the
neighbouring Annapurna range. Eventually I reached the pass and after taking a
photograph I started the descent. Initially the descent was quite steep and
amusingly the young Nepalese runners who had christened my roommate Bev
“mother” insisted on taking her arm and assisted her down the slope. I trotted
down the path whilst trying to fend off the unwanted attention of a rather persistent
Nepalese porter. A bit of arm waving and a few cross looks later and he got the
message and I was happily left alone to enjoy the moment, some of the Nepalese
runners behind me were singing and it really felt as though the race was now
nearing completion and I soon caught up with Ewen, Eilidh and Preeti and we continued
down the mountainside. It was a long walk down the valley to our next stop at
Bimtang and at times I had taken the map out, convinced I had gone wrong, but
Peter who I had walked with through the majority of the valley was adamant we
had gone the rights way. When William and Satu caught me up I felt a little
more confident until the village at the bottom of the valley came into sight.
By the time I reached the teahouse my appetite had well and truly returned and
I decided to have a pre-dinner dinner at the tea house, a mountain of of fried
potatoes, vegetables and eggs was served up – complete with tomato ketchup- and
I still had plenty room for dinner later.
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| Manaslu in the morning sunshine |
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| A frozen lake |
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| The group spread out over the course of the day |
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| Climbing ever higher |
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| Tea break |
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| Crossing frozen ground |
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| The Larkya La Pass at 5106m |
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| Starting the descent from the pass |
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| The Annapurna range |
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| Im not sure which one Annapurna is though! |
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| Finally Bimtang comes into view |
Accommodation
The accommodation in
Kathmandu was very nice, race HQ was the plush Manaslu hotel and my last night
was Tignes Tea house, both of which I would stay at again. The post race hotel
in Besi sahar was nice but basic and seemed to be in need of some TLC but it
served its purpose along with an excellent curry and beers for the post race
celebrations. The sensible folk went to bed early knowing that we had a long
bus ride to Kathmandu the next day but a few folk let their hair down, those
poor Nepali girls are going to need years of therapy to get over Rick taking
his glass eye out! During the race itself the accommodation was tea houses,
clean functional rooms of two with shared “bathroom facilities” ie squat
toilets and an outside tap. In some teahouses wi fi was advertised....somewhat optimistically and dont be too hopeful about re-charging your garmin batteries every night. In some of the deep valleys the garmin watches couldnt get a satellite signal anyway so whatever distance the garmin said may not be too accurate anyway. One night we stayed at the monastery at Hinang
Gompa and this was dorm accommodation with mattresses lying side by side on the
floor. Only Tatopani had a WC that you didn’t need to go outside to reach. On
the plus side nightly toilet visits allowed you see amazing clear starry skies
and the brightest of bright moons, that is if you could be bothered to look up
rather than scurrying straight back to the warmth your sleeping bag. Gigantic (ok, slight exaggeration but they
were BIG) spiders at Pewa caused a little upset for some and although I have no
fear of spiders whatsoever the way their eyes shone when your head torch light
caught them was a tad unnerving. When we got into the mountains the nights at
Samagoan, Samdo and particularly at Bimtang were very cold. Bev had left a
bottle of water by her bed in the little wooden uninsulated chalet at Bimtang
and this had frozen in the night.
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| Clean functional, if not necessarily warm, rooms |
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| A night time visitor |
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| Washing facilities at Pewa was the tap under the blue building. |
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| Dorm accommodation at Hinang Gompa |
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| The tea house at Samdo |
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| The wooden chalets at Bimtang had no insulation whatsoever |
Stage 9 - Bimtang to
Dharapani (Approx 24k)
The final stage and it was all downhill. Initially I wasn’t
sure if I liked the idea of this or not as I’m not the greatest downhill runner
but as it was bitterly cold in the morning I ended up being glad I could get
some faster running in (all things being relative of course). The rocky gnarly
path twisted and turned through the forest following the river relentlessly
downhill until suddenly I was at the checkpoint, something I hadn’t expected
quite so soon. After the checkpoint I expected more of the same but shortly
afterwards we were suddenly directed up a very narrow path involving some
scrambling. Looking back at the Nepalese man pointing the way I vaguely
wondered what Nepalese for “are you sure about this?” was but as I could see a
couple of competitors already on the river bank high above I decided to carry
on and sure enough there were some trail markings. A little further on I
reached the runnable track, having first negotiated my way round the digger
that was making this track and from there on in it was the most runnable
section of the last 9 days and I felt able to stretch out, run hard, and enjoy
it even though at times I wasn’t sure how much further I still had to go.
Finally I crossed another metal bridge, the last of the trip, and turned
sharply right into the grounds of the Heaven Guest House and crossed the finish
line, legs shaking. The name was right, it was Heaven. Competitors who had
finished sat out on the lawn bathed in sunshine, eating noodles, drinking beer surrounded
by golden yellow marigolds with butterflies flitting between the flowers. It
was a complete contrast from the cold and barrenness of Bimtang a matter of just
hours ago. But that was it, race over. I lay dozing in the sunshine until it
was time for the rather exhilarating 5 hour jeep journey to our hotel and our
first hot showers in days.
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| The rocky trail |
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| Relaxing post race |
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| The aptly names Heaven guest house was the race finish |
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| William and Ian finishing the race |
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| Relaxing in the sunshine |
Footnote
Back in Kathmandu
Richard took some of us to a little place he knew with a back room/roof terrace
that served up the local brew Tongba, a sort of moonshine concoction made from
fermented millet which you keep drinking, adding hot water and drinking,
presumably until all the alcohol has gone or you fall over. In the darkness of
the city streets the incessant traffic noise, the contrasting colourful stalls
and shops, the gaudy neon lights of hotels, the scents and sounds of street
vendors stalls, the post race tiredness, and alcohol all started to take effect
and it wasn’t long before I felt incredibly sleepy, everything started to feel
a little surreal. Did that race really just happen? Did I really get round that
course? I was sad that it was all over, sad to leave the friends that I had
made, sad to leave the routine that I had gotten strangely happily used to - run,
eat, sleep, repeat – it had a beautiful simplicity to it, but mostly sad to
leave Nepal, this amazing country. I had come to Nepal in search of
redemption for a dismal failure in the Monte Rosa race earlier that autumn but
I left Nepal having found so much more.
My thanks to Richard for making this all possible.
