AROUND TANSEN (aka Palpa)

Hike to Ranighat
When a Nepali tells you a journey is flat, he or she sees it with different eyes than mine and most other Westerners. Moderate ups and downs don't register with a Nepali the same way they do with one more used to "true flat". When asked the time to a certain place, we were given both a Nepali time and a "bedeshi time". (Bedeshi is the neutral term for non-Nepali) A "bedeshi time with camera"--talking advantage of all photo-ops--is longer still. However, this telling of distance by hours I find strange since few Nepalis wear watches and asking 4 different people the same question of distance gives five different answers.

I joined a group of 9 Westerns who started off from the Tansen Mission Hospital on Thursday morning and worked our way down and around the hills on paths and rutted dirt roads to the Kali Gandaki River. I believe the general direction was north and west, but I don't think the cardinal points on a compass mean a great deal in the mountains. During this time we gradually descended through forest, around fields and farms before reaching a warm, damp almost jungle growth. Along the path were spreading Ficus religious trees in cement platforms, many types and sizes of bamboo, holly, rice fields--recently harvested, humped cattle plowing the terraces for the winter crop and people going about their agrarian business. We were serenaded with the sound of water in irrigation canals and natural springs and an intermittent hum of cicadas in the lower altitudes along the river. The sparkle of small and medium sized butterflies flitting among the flowering shrubs growing in the dappled sun along the paths added movement to rather idyllic scene.

A rundown 19th C. palace on the Kali Gandaki River called Ranighat was our goal. Built on a platform with steps down to the green-watered river between two deep curves, this river abode--built in honor of a local ruler's consort--still shows vestiges of its previous grandeur. We arrived after 4 hours walking and ate our bananas, crackers, biscuits, oranges, and sandwiches in the cool shade.

Continuing to Ramdi?Reiner, the leader and a surgeon who had worked at the hospital for a number of years and spoke Nepali, asked some of the locals about the possibility of us following the river to Ramdi where we could find transport by vehicle back to Tansen. The villagers said it would take about 4 hours, and once we gained the ridge, we had only to follow the river along a level path. This is where the excursion began to take shades of one of Orty's and my unprepared few hour hikes that inevitably turn into a full day unprepared hike in unmapped territory. And remember, a Nepali "level path" has nothing to do with flatlander bedeshi reality.

The way Reiner put forth the choices of a rather boring return along the way we came, verses an exciting, but pleasant 4 hour walk, who could have chosen the former? His directions written on four lines, didn't match much of what we found. We were often on the wrong path, traveling in the opposite direction from what we were supposed to, but always people helped us, sometimes walking with us to point out a tricky intersection or hidden turn-off.

Jacob, the Swedish medical student, and his wife Therese had a large packet of balloons in their backpack. Every filthy, snot-nosed child received one, looking quite amazed at the strange present. It reminded me of my father's buzzy bees--his signature balloon reward, which fascinated many youngsters, erasing the sting of a shot or painful prodding.

The litter along the paths and roads is quite foul in Nepal. Plastic chip packets and candy wrappers are the norm, the result of a culture unused to waste disposal. One wonders if the unnatural sight of the litter doesn't offend the Nepalis, but I suspect they have a blind spot for such vulgarity.

One bright spot in the Nepali landscape is the variety of color. Houses are painted or the wooden doors and window frames are painted bright colors. Flowers, especially marigolds are in profusion around the houses and women wear bright colors, glorifying themselves and the clothes lines.

About 16:30 we started to cross a footbridge of the Kali Gandaki River, thinking we were heading in the right direction and could catch a vehicle on the other side. A motorcycle driver coming across told Reiner that what we wanted was still a good hour away and in the opposite direction. He gave Reiner directions and said that he'd drive ahead to his village and wait to show us the way so we got on the correct road.

The United Mission Hospital of Tansen has a good name in the area. People we met in the villages responded positively to us because of the hospital. I think they feel that they get good treatment at a fair price and if really poor, know they will be taken care of without payment. Reiner introduced us as working there, which may have set the stage, but still, there was a sense of recognition, and smiles, showing that people appreciate the hospital's presence.

It seemed that every time Reiner stopped to ask directions the distance to Ramdi magically lengthened and the time to reach our destination grew like Pinocchio's nose--as if we were walking in a fairy tale or a Steven King story. It was beginning to get dark and we had still at least an hour to go, probably longer. Just as the group arrived in the motorcyclist's village a jeep from Tansen came trundling down the rutted road. The driver agreed to drive us back to the hospital. What a fortuitous, unplanned coincidence.

Traveling half in dusk, half in darkness we rode the treacherously narrow and steep mud road up and up, then down and down for an hour in the 15 km trip to Tansen. The 30 year old driver was the one person in the entire world who best knew the road, including the 6 curves that have to be taken by backing up part way because they are too sharp to be taken in one try. Despite the lack of any barrier to the sheer drops into the great Himalayan void, we were grateful for the jeep's fortuitous arrival and the agreement to bring us home after a long and tiring day.