Trekking Nepal's Kangchenjunga region...
March 7, 2006
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| Kangchenjunga Base Camp Photo Courtesy of P. Media |
On Nepal's far eastern border with Sikkim (India) lies the third highest peak in the world, Kangchenjunga at 8,586 meters. Kanhchenjunga means “the five treasures of the great snows” and is regarded as one of the harder 8,000-meter peaks to climb. It was first summitted by four climbers from the 1955 British Expedition (including New Zealander, Norm Hardie). This mighty massif has two base camps in Nepal and one in Sikkim. My goal was far less than the summit, just a mere wander with a guided group to visit the Nepalese base camps at Pangpema (north) and Oktang (south).
Unlike the trekker's meccas Annapurna, Everest and Langtang, with their fine infrastructure to support trekkers, the Kangchenjunga region remains relatively under-developed. Despite being opened to trekkers in 1988, it still remains a restricted area where permits and guides are required for entry. The region has retained its culture and sports and is less westernized than the Annapurna as it only attracts 600 trekkers a year as opposed to Annapurna's 70,000.
The logistics of trekking in this region are slightly tricky due to its distance from Kathmandu. The road to the district headquarters of Taplejung is not always negotiable and there are no scheduled direct flights from Kathmandu to the nearby airstrip at Suketar.
So, it was with some relief that my trip operator, World Expeditions, had managed to secure a charter flight direct to Suketar. While the airstrip may not be quite as scenic as Lukla in the Everest region, my guidebook described it as “one of the most hair-raising landings imaginable” and way above Lukla “in the adrenaline stakes.” Our landing verified this. The plane seemed to float above the airstrip while being buffeted by cross winds before eventually touching down near the end of the airstrip. Luckily for me, I could not see how close that end was, but the extreme braking and a rapid “handbrake turn” left us with a mere 15-20 meters to spare!
Despite the presence of armed police flanking the area, it was a relief to be on solid ground with the sun shining and the quietness of the hills. A recent uprising of the Maoists had put all government officials on alert and security was at levels unknown in this relatively passive country. Our cheerful Gurkha guide Ramesh sported a beaming smile, a feature that did not change for the entire duration of the trip.
Although I had trekked in the Nepalese Himalaya before, this was my first time travelling “expedition” style and I immediately realized the extent of our support crew. The area swarmed with red “crew” jackets. Sherpa guides, kitchen staff and porters totalled 35 for a mere 12 punters. Meals were several courses and served by Sherpa guides at tables complete with tablecloths. This was a somewhat different dining experience from the usual New Zealand tramping trip, where a fallen tree or flat rock provides the dining furniture and it's all help-yourself. The Sherpa are also charged with guiding the group, while the army of porters transport tents and gear in large baskets secured with woven straps strung across their foreheads. The kitchen
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The towering peaks may draw first time trekkers to Nepal, but it's the beaming smiles and welcoming personalities of the local people that bring trekkers back. Outside of Kathmandu's chaos, it seems no one knows how to raise a voice or frown. While mostly Hindu, with some Buddhists in the high country, Nepalese people show a remarkable tolerance of other religions— a trait rarely displayed in many of Nepal's neighbouring countries. The faces of fine-featured Hindus give way to the round smiling faces of Tibetan Buddhists as you trek from the lowlands to the mountains.
The first leg of my journey began with a descent into the Tamor Khola river. As we moved off the ridge, the calm conditions became somewhat tropical as heat and humidity combined. The first afternoon's showers reminded us that monsoon season wasn't quite over and called for the use of our parkas. However, the weather settled and this ended up the only time we used our parkas in 26 days.
Having left a Kiwi winter of 30-degree temperatures, I found heading up the valley, even at a slow pace, to be tiring work. The depths of Himalayan valleys are extreme; nestled at the bottom were some delightful campsites beside the river. But come morning these campsites took some time to see the sun. At the lower altitudes, the coolness was appreciated, but as we made progress up valley I found it harder and harder to draw myself out of my sleeping bag. By the time we reached Ghunsa (3,500 meters) snow was appearing on the tops and village architecture had changed from thatch, pitched roofs, to Tibetan, flat-roofed, stone buildings.
To help acclimatize for the higher altitudes of the base camps, we set off on a side trip from Ghunsa to Nangbo La (4,820 meters). The promise of views across the dry, barren Yangma Valley to the Tibetan border spurred us on, despite the substantial altitude gain and sudden oxygen loss. As the air thinned, my breathing turned to gasping; my pace slowed and rocks turned to snow. Before long, a traditional array of Buddhist prayer flags appeared indicating the pass. Jagged snow-capped Sarphu peaks rose above us, and the barren landscape ahead was a dramatic contrast with the lush bush clad valleys that had been left behind. The impact of the altitude left us all with headaches that afternoon.
Departing from Ghunsa, the damp undergrowth gave way to larch and juniper trees. A desolate alpine environment appeared as we neared Pangpema—the northern base camp of Kangchenjunga. As the valley opens up, peaks soar with a side valley at Kamberchen providing the most dramatic peak, Kumbhakarna/Jannu (7,710 meters). Jannu's northern face is almost vertical and looks imposing, especially when viewed from your tent door. Its reputation as one of the stunning Himalayan peaks is well deserved and it was difficult to draw your eyes away from its majesty.
The next stop was Lhonak— a nearby side valley that leads to the tall peak of Kambache (7,903 meters). Any opportunity to sleep here was ruined by the local yaks, complete with bells, wandering amongst the tents and guy ropes all night inquisitive of their new visitors.
