Morning Walk- Dolpa

Morning Walk-Dolpa

"Grandfather, take out one of your eyes." The command was imperious and insistent: its deliverer was a tousle-haired nine-year-old Nepali boy, with authority well beyond his years, clearly leader of the cluster of kids with him. Surrender or walk on regardless? I was two hours from home and not quite halfway round one of the circuits of my morning walks. I looked at them, all with eyes button bright and overflowing enthusiasm: how many other midoctogenarians would be similarly challenged? I suppose the morning-walk habit started when I was in Laos, living alone. On high days and holidays I would take my dog, Singha, my pedometer showing me that I walked between twenty-one and twenty-eight miles. In my early days I would take language cards and I would ask people I met a question from the top word in the pile. They would be surprised to be asked if they caught crabs in the swamp or what noise their buffalo made when scratched. I was only accepted without hostility or suspicion when people learnt I was neither French nor American but a 'khon Añgit', an Englishman. I met Pathet Lao patrols as I ranged far and wide. After the Communists had taken over, every morning, everywhere, the ritual of political indoctrination would take place. One Saturday morning, early, miles out 'in the sticks' and still a bit chilly, I saw an armed group of young Pathet Lao soldiers - looking for all the world like our Gurkhas as to visage - sitting cross-legged in a circle in a harvested rice field on the outskirts of the village they were garrisoning, being lectured by a hard-faced 'cadre'. They were directly in the line I was taking. I did not deviate but kept on towards them. I talked to Singha, in Nepali, telling him not to chase the goats or the pigs. The soldiers saw me coming, then heard a strange language. The cadre stopped talking, turned and stared at me, as did the soldiers, scowling severely. I sensed tension in the air but, having committed myself, chose to ignore it. I walked into the centre of the group and told the dog to sit, give me one paw and then the other. He obliged me. In Lao I said to the group, "That's discipline. That's how you won the war. Without it that's how you'll lose the peace."I pointed to Singha. "You can call him the 'little soldier' but don't call me the 'big dog'."

Blank amazement greeted this utterly unexpected stricture. Nothing existed in the book of rules for such behaviour that was neither hostile nor rude, merely eccentric. I wobbled my hands and knees, then my eyebrows and ears, asking the soldiers if they could. They burst out laughing, all semblance of severity gone. I put my arm round the shoulders of the cadre, a Vietnamese, my hand on his head and made a squeaking noise with my mouth. He gave a start but stayed silent. Such an occurrence was evidently not yet a common experience. "You've got a mouse in your head," I said sympathetically and inanely. "I hope it doesn't hurt. And you teach politics?" By then I had gone as far as I dared so, telling the dog to follow me, turned and left without looking behind. For a brief moment I felt it mighty cold on the back of my neck. I never heard anything about that trivial, unnecessary and entirely unrehearsed incident. Once I had started living in Pokhara, in 1986, I only started walking after we began to keep dogs. With dogs, the morning walk habit set in really properly. The dogs loved it: we had two. Three neighbours' dogs joined us to make five and the most I ever had trailing behind me was seven. 'Morning walk', along with 'half brain' and 'love marriage' are Nepali neologisms - 'paper wedding', to aid foreigners' citizenship process, is another, fairly new one. No, I will not put words into your mouth by conflating the first two. By now I have, on a conservative estimation, walked over a hundred thousand kilometers, more than three times round the world at the equator. It was on one of our earlier walks when Buddhiman and I were wondering how much or how little the countryside had changed in the past five hundred years did the idea of historical novel writing occur to me. When I was struggling with any passage in the book I was currently writing, for instance when I had nearly had the hero killed halfway through, I felt I had to have him rescued even though the scene I had set did not allow it. 'Winking little thoughts into my toddle cup', unquote Lolita, I would drift for two or three hours mulling over a number of possible scenarios. Then suddenly, bingo, an answer would come. On one walk in an unusual place in my early days I was called, rather rudely, by some schoolboys.4 I was, as normal, wearing shorts and traditional Nepali headgear. I did not answer them. I was chi-hiked again and did not answer. I then heard an interesting comment from one of the boys. 'I thought he was a foreigner but he must be a Nepali because he refuses to talk to us.' Twice I have limped back to the house bitten and bleeding, once when attacked, from either side, by two dogs and once when I found myself in the middle of our dog and a neighbor’s fighting: anti-rabies jabs both times. "Grandfather, you haven't been listening. Take one of your eyes out." … and, by sleight of hand and a popping noise made with my tongue, the mission is completed to hoots of wonderful laughter from some and a look almost of reverence from others.
source:-khukuri_2011

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Round the Northern Villages-Dolpa

Round the northern villages-Dolpa

The two-day trail from Chharka to Tingkhu starts with a crossing of the 5,100m Mo La. The Barbung Khola turns west below the pass and the trail that follows it leads across Lower Dolpo to Dunai. Eight very cheerful village girls who were carrying provisions up to the high pastures accompanied us for the first hour, and we had lunch beside one of their camps on the other side of the pass. The Mo La marks another great watershed: that between the Bheri and the Karnali. From the pass we had wonderful views of our route north. Just before reaching our campsite, we had to cross a wide and fast flowing river in a thunderstorm. Thank goodness we had the ponies as the water came up to the waist of our support crew. With an hour of daylight left, a weak sun appeared along with the first of the returning Chharka yaks to share the site with us. Dawa told me that the headman of Chharka was with the group so I went to have a chat with him. Like all his companions, he had been drinking heavily on the trail so there not much chance of having an extended discussion about the challenges of life in Dolpo today! The yaks were loaded with every conceivable type of Chinese goods so I simply asked him what they had traded in return. He raised a closed fist towards me, waved it around, and shouted paisa! So much for the salt-for-grain trade! This has traditionally helped to shape and sustain life in these high trans Himalaya regions but profound changes are now underway. The weather was again mixed the next day: sunshine in the morning, cloudy during the day and rain as we reached Tingkhu in the late afternoon - a typical Dolpo summer day! We passed the rest of the Chharka yaks in groups of about 20 during the day, and there were indeed over 500 of them. It is a seven to eight day round trip from Chharka to the mart on the other side of the border that is specially set up for the Dolpopa. Sadly, the trail was littered with discarded Chinese beer cans and packets of foodstuff. As we approached Tingkhu, we saw across the river the trail that leads southwards over the Chhoi La to the Tarap valley. With ponies, it is a one-day trip for the local villagers. Dawa also pointed out Kula Ri, one of Dolpo’s three great sacred mountains. [The others are Crystal Mountain near Shey Gompa and Ribo, which is close to the Tarap Valley.] He told us that on the next full moon the people of Tingkhu would be doing their annual kora or circuit around Kula Ri - and that the trail was a tough one. In our wet and bedraggled state we were delighted to have Tibetan tea and soup in Dawa’s mother’s house while the tents w ere sorted out. We had briefly visited Tingkhu in 2002 and had planned to have a rest day in it during this trip to see friends and to explore it properly. Our camp was set up near an old Tibetan fort, a visible reminder that for many centuries Dolpo had been part of various Tibetan kingdoms and principalities. The village lies in an open basin at the junction of two main valleys. There are about 35 houses, including some recently built ones, all strung along the foot of the northern slope of the basin, facing south. The main Panzang valley runs west towards Shimen village and east towards the small village of Polde. Before the border was closed, there was a direct trail from Polde across the Bindu La to Lo Monthang. This was the trail used by the kings of Lo when they came on their yearly pilgrimages to ask for blessings and consecrations from Dolpo’s lamas who were highly respected across the Tibetan-speaking world for their ascetic life and deep learning. Sixteenth century biographical texts reveal that the Dolpo lamas also travelled very widely. Now a traveller from northern Dolpo to Mustang has to go on the much longer trail via Chharka. I spent the morning of a sunny day walking round the village, taking photos and chatting to many of Dawa’s friends. We had hoped to see our friend Tenzin Norbu. He comes from a long lineage of Tibetan thangka painters and has adapted his skills to paint impressionistic scenes of everyday life in Dolpo. He has had exhibitions in New York, Paris and Japan. He has a studio in Kathmandu where he and his family spend the winter. His wife told us that we would see him in Saldang where he was spending most of the summer masterminding the painting of a large new fresco in the gompa. After lunch, I walked up the steep trail to Trolung gompa which sits high above the village. Norbu’s father had been the lama there and the family had only moved down to a house in the village after his death. To my surprise, but clearly alerted by Dawa, Norbu’s mother was waiting for me with Tibetan tea and tsampa. She is a regular visitor to her old home inthe gompa. We walked down to the village together and had more tea and chat in her house. She is a very special lady with a wonderful face and featured prominently in the film Himalaya as the wife of Thinle, the hero of the story. It is an easy five-hour journey from Tingkhu along the Panzang valley to Shimen, an attractively laid out village in a large valley with houses and small groves of willow trees spaced around the fields.
source:-khukuri-2011 pdf

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The Trail to Dolpo

The trail to Dolpo

Getting to Chharka safely and without a serious altitude problem was key to the whole trek, and the first five days of the trail from Jomsom is worth a brief description. We tookan early morning flight from Pokhara to Jomsom where we met up with our trek crew. Because of heavy rain in Pokhara and mist in Jomsom this was not as “early” as we had planned but the weather suddenly relented and to our great relief we took off at 08.15. Seventeen minutes later we were in Jomsom to even greater relief! We saw little on the flight but trusted the pilot to find his way between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri through the monsoon clouds. A two-hour walk along the Kali Gandaki brought us to the long bridge across the river at Eklai Bhatti. We were covered in dust from endless jeeps taking Indian pilgrims up to Mukhinath so it was a joy to turn left and make the gentle one-hour climb to Phalyak where we enjoyed one of our two nights in a very pleasant lodge. The second was on the way back and we were not surprised to find that no one had stayed there since we last passed by. Phalyak is a very Tibetan village that overlooks the Kali Gandaki and the trail to the Thorung La beyond. Some large new houses were being built with, we were told, remittance money from villagers resident in New York. The second day started with a climb to the first 4,000m pass. From here, and for the next two hours, we enjoyed spectacular views over Mustang in its wonderful summer colours. At the next pass the trail turned west and climbed steadily around the flank of Dhaulagiri, high above the gorge of the Keha Lungpa River. We crossed nine ridges before a long day finished with a steep descent to Sangdak, a cluster of 20 houses built on the edge of the gorge. This is the summer village. At the end of October, after the buckwheat harvest, the Sangdak people all move on a single day to their winter village called Gok. This is a five-hour walk away, 400m higher, and further up and on the other side of the great gorge, but it gets more winter sun and is sheltered from the prevailing wind. On the third day we continued the high traverse on a steeply undulating trail above the gorge. After five hours, the trail dropped sharply down to the river where we had lunch in baking heat. From this point, an old trail to Dolpo follows the gorge for two days before emerging on the other side of the main passes but it was never suitable for pack animals and erosion has now made it very dangerous on foot, even for the Dolpopa [the people of Dolpo]. After lunch we crossed the river and climbed up a steep and narrow path towards our camping place in a small juniper grove, not far from Gok. At one place, the path was so narrow that the mules had to be unloaded and everybody had to help carry the loads for 200m up the steep path. It was another difficult eight-hour day but we were rewarded with great views down the gorge from our campsite with a glorious sunset over Mustang at the end of it. We knew that all of this was mere prologue to the crucial day of the trek: the crossing of the 5,100m Khag La and the 5,600m Touche La which would take us across the great watershed between the Kali Gandaki and the Bheri, known in its upper reaches as the Barbung Khola. We woke up in cloud. It was a long, rough, and steep climb to a lower pass before we reached the sharp-edged Khag La [also called the Sangdak Pass]. We rode up some of the way but had to dismount for the last half hour because of loose stones and shale on the steep final approach to the pass. From there, we walked part of the way down into a great basin and had lunch beside the river. After lunch we crossed the river and rode up to the Touche La, the highest point of our trek. With the horses we were first up and able to linger to enjoy some glorious views. We walked a little way down, and then the horses arrived to carry us down past the Niwar La which marks the actual watershed. Then the rain and the hail came to give us a good soaking. It was a long trek down the valley to a desolate camping spot at a river junction at 4,800 metres. We shared this with some yak herders from Sangdak. We sheltered in the kitchen tent while the other tents were erected, and tried to find dry clothing. Eventually we got into our tent, the sun came out and we were able to dry out some of the bags and their contents. It had been a ten-hour day but we knew that the way to Dolpo now lay open. Eight hours on an up and down trail the next day, following the line of the river, brought us to Chharka. Early in the day we crossed two rivers, one of which followed a trail that led to Mukut, one of the main villages in lower Dolpo. We were tired after five hard days but the first sight of Chharka, Dolpo’s most iconic village, standing fortress-like high above the Barbung khola, gave us a great lift. We had tried to reach it from Dho Tarap in 2009 but weather and sickness thwarted us. After a cloudy day, we had some brilliant late afternoon light which was good for photography.

Getting to Chharka safely and without a serious altitude problem was key to the whole trek, and the first five days of the trail from Jomsom is worth a brief description. We tookan early morning flight from Pokhara to Jomsom where we met up with our trek crew. Because of heavy rain in Pokhara and mist in Jomsom this was not as “early” as we had planned but the weather suddenly relented and to our great relief we took off at 08.15. Seventeen minutes later we were in Jomsom to even greater relief! We saw little on the flight but trusted the pilot to find his way between Annapurna and Dhaulagiri through the monsoon clouds. A two-hour walk along the Kali Gandaki brought us to the long bridge across the river at Eklai Bhatti. We were covered in dust from endless jeeps taking Indian pilgrims up to Mukhinath so it was a joy to turn left and make the gentle one-hour climb to Phalyak where we enjoyed one of our two nights in a very pleasant lodge. The second was on the way back and we were not surprised to find that no one had stayed there since we last passed by. Phalyak is a very Tibetan village that overlooks the Kali Gandaki and the trail to the Thorung La beyond. Some large new houses were being built with, we were told, remittance money from villagers resident in New York. The second day started with a climb to the first 4,000m pass. From here, and for the next two hours, we enjoyed spectacular views over Mustang in its wonderful summer colours. At the next pass the trail turned west and climbed steadily around the flank of Dhaulagiri, high above the gorge of the Keha Lungpa River. We crossed nine ridges before a long day finished with a steep descent to Sangdak, a cluster of 20 houses built on the edge of the gorge. This is the summer village. At the end of October, after the buckwheat harvest, the Sangdak people all move on a single day to their winter village called Gok. This is a five-hour walk away, 400m higher, and further up and on the other side of the great gorge, but it gets more winter sun and is sheltered from the prevailing wind. On the third day we continued the high traverse on a steeply undulating trail above the gorge. After five hours, the trail dropped sharply down to the river where we had lunch in baking heat. From this point, an old trail to Dolpo follows the gorge for two days before emerging on the other side of the main passes but it was never suitable for pack animals and erosion has now made it very dangerous on foot, even for the Dolpopa [the people of Dolpo]. After lunch we crossed the river and climbed up a steep and narrow path towards our camping place in a small juniper grove, not far from Gok. At one place, the path was so narrow that the mules had to be unloaded and everybody had to help carry the loads for 200m up the steep path. It was another difficult eight-hour day but we were rewarded with great views down the gorge from our campsite with a glorious sunset over Mustang at the end of it. We knew that all of this was mere prologue to the crucial day of the trek: the crossing of the 5,100m Khag La and the 5,600m Touche La which would take us across the great watershed between the Kali Gandaki and the Bheri, known in its upper reaches as the Barbung Khola. We woke up in cloud. It was a long, rough, and steep climb to a lower pass before we reached the sharp-edged Khag La [also called the Sangdak Pass]. We rode up some of the way but had to dismount for the last half hour because of loose stones and shale on the steep final approach to the pass. From there, we walked part of the way down into a great basin and had lunch beside the river. After lunch we crossed the river and rode up to the Touche La, the highest point of our trek. With the horses we were first up and able to linger to enjoy some glorious views. We walked a little way down, and then the horses arrived to carry us down past the Niwar La which marks the actual watershed. Then the rain and the hail came to give us a good soaking. It was a long trek down the valley to a desolate camping spot at a river junction at 4,800 metres. We shared this with some yak herders from Sangdak. We sheltered in the kitchen tent while the other tents were erected, and tried to find dry clothing. Eventually we got into our tent, the sun came out and we were able to dry out some of the bags and their contents. It had been a ten-hour day but we knew that the way to Dolpo now lay open. Eight hours on an up and down trail the next day, following the line of the river, brought us to Chharka. Early in the day we crossed two rivers, one of which followed a trail that led to Mukut, one of the main villages in lower Dolpo. We were tired after five hard days but the first sight of Chharka, Dolpo’s most iconic village, standing fortress-like high above the Barbung khola, gave us a great lift. We had tried to reach it from Dho Tarap in 2009 but weather and sickness thwarted us. After a cloudy day, we had some brilliant late afternoon light which was good for photography.

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Queen’s Gurkha Signals

Queen’s Gurkha Signals

246 Gurkha Signal Squadron, part of 2 Signal Regiment, deployed to Afghanistan on Op HERRICK 13, in August and took over the Helmand Information Communication Services Signal Squadron (HICSSS) role. The Squadron had troops and detachments scattered throughout Helmand Province. The Squadron Headquarters and a Troop were based in Camp Bastion and a Troop was in Lashkar Gah. Forward Troop had its Information Communication Service (ICS) detachments deployed out to Forward Operating Bases (FOB) and Patrol Bases (PB) at Juno, PB2, Gereshk, Shawqat, Shazad and Sangin. The Shazad ICS Detachment commanded by Sgt Dipak Gurung also comprised Cpl Min “Bhale” Gurung (RSE), Cpl Naresh Rai (CSEng (T)), LCpl Liam Megson (CSEng (I)) and LCpl Yam Gurung (CS Operator). The detachment supported the 3rd Battalion The Parachute Regiment Battlegroup (BG) Headquarters, part of 16 Air Assault Brigade, in Combined Forces Nad-E-Ali (North). Originally the detachment supported the Theatre Reserve Battalion, 2nd Battalion the Duke of Lancaster’s Regiment. The ICS provided by the detachment to the Battlegroup included the Mission Secret (MS) network and Blue VoIP phones provided through the ‘OVERTASK' system, using a VSAT satellite bearer. A SWE=DISH satellite bearer also provided Promina Red and Black voice and data services. FEPS generators supplied power for the Communications “SPECTRE” cabin, the HQ building and most of the FOB which was looked after by the ICS electrician Cpl Min. The detachment also had responsibility for 1st Line Technical Support to the OVERTASK Remote Access System (ORAS) sites providing Mission Secret services to the front line in PB ‘Khamar’ and PB ‘Wahid’. A Direct Line Of Sight (DLOS) system called Project KESTREL was also installed in Shazad to improve the bandwidth and speed of MS network traffic, but was still being engineered to become fully operational. The everyday jobs included maintaining and sustaining ICS services to the Battlegroup around the clock, which was done exceptionally well with minimal manpower. Usually the crew was involved in fixing issues on users’ computers and phones as well as on the servers, satellite bearers and power supply. The detachment handled Statement of Requirements and Requests for Change, and wherever possible delivered capability. Manpower was also provided for force protection of the FOB. Life in ICS Shazad settled into a good routine. Accommodation was in an 18 x 24 tent. Boilers were installed so we had hot showers. Toilet facilities were very basic and limited to ‘desert roses’ (polyethylene pipes spiked on the Queen’s Gurkha Signals Life in a Forward Operating Base By Sgt Dipak Gurung ground) and disposable silver bags. Amenities were basic, even though the base was expanding into an FOB. There was ‘wifi’ internet in the welfare room and Iridium hand-held Paradigm phones were used for welfare phone calls. There was also BFBS radio reception and a television in the communal area where we could relax during any free time. It was an interesting tour working in a forward location. Although we settled into a regular pattern of life, we remained vigilant and ready to react to insurgent fire and the threat of attack. We respected our infantry comrades at the checkpoints who were involved in difficult and dangerous situations daily. Small-arms fire was very frequent in FOB Shazad with the insurgents actively targeting the helicopters when they were landing and taking off. The locals also enjoyed shooting the surveillance balloon that carried a number of high-powered cameras that were used for observation. When we first arrived, there was no perimeter for the camp and locals could walk in and out freely. However we have established an all round HESCO perimeter built by a troop of 69 Squadron The Queen's Gurkha Engineers, part of 29 Regt RE. Sadly, when building the camp perimeter, a young sapper, Ishwor Gurung, was killed in action when working on top of a 30-foot tall “super” sangar roof. Usually, the checkpoints in and around FOB Shazad were fired on by the enemy every day. The roar of gun fire from the artillery battery next door, Apache helicopter fire and GPMG bursts reverberated throughout the day and night. The spirit in the detachment was constantly buoyant. We received lots of mail and parcels from home. Furthermore, we were visited by the CO, Lt Col Knott, and our OC, Maj Dagless. Our thanks go to the welfare charities for sending us free goodies and in particular to Mrs Dagless (Maj Dagless’s mother) for continually supplying us with delicious homemade shortbread. ICS Detachment Shazad did well. The support to both Battlegroups was outstanding and we kept it going until we handed over to 3 (UK) Divisional Signal Regiment. No matter how vulnerable our position in a forward location, everyone’s morale was high and we were keen to keep providing close support to our comrades in the front line. Jai 246 GSS!
source: khukuri-2011 pdf

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