Kangchenjunga Region:

The multi-summited Kangchenjunga - "the Five Great Treasuries of the Snows" - the world's third
highest mountain, lies in the extreme north-eastern corner of Nepal. Some 30 days are required for
the classic trek that visits both the Yalung Glacier on the southern side and the Kangchenjunga
Glacier on the northern. In the spring ( pre-monsoon season ) when the hillsides are ablaze with
flowering azaleas and rhododendron, it is reputed to be the most beautiful walk in the world.

Only groups self-sufficient in food and fuel are allocated permits for the Kangchenjunga region
and provide welcome employment for porters from the local Rai and Limbu peoples ( two of the
Nepalese hill-tribes, who together with the Gurungs and lowland Chetris, provide the backbone of
the Gurkha regiment ). Most come from subsistence-level, family farms and rely on trekking for hard
cash for the purchase of clothing, tools and utensils. At the start of my "solo" trek I had a crew
of 13:- Prem Rai, sirdar, Lalu Limbu, cook, Nima Sherpa, kitchenboy and ten porters - nine of
them carrying food.

On the southern approach from the picturesque town of Ilam, in the tea-growing region of Nepal, the
vegetation changes with increasing altitude from lush, sub-tropical rice-paddies and banana palms,
through alpine forests of fir and pine, to the arctic tundra of the yak pastures at Ramze nestling
beneath the moraines of the Yalung Glacier.

Both Ramze and its counterpart Lhonak on the northern side are magnificent campsites amidst
spectacular himalayan peaks overlooked by the tremendous rock and ice massif of Kangchenjunga.

"This is a special place " declared Prem at Oktang, the viewpoint at the end of the trekking route,
as he constructed a stone cairn in homage to the mountain.

Lhonak on the northern side is only reached after an arduous crossing of the Sinian La high pass
( or the more difficult Lapsang La ) and heading up the remote Ghunsa Khola Valley for a further
two days beyond the compact Sherpa village of Ghunsa with its timber-built houses, multi-coloured
mani-stones and long, white, vertical prayer-flags.

Regrettably a circuit of Kangchenjunga is not possible as the necessary crossing of the
international border with Sikkim is forbidden. However it is a different, and sometimes dangerous,
return route from Ghunsa down the Tamur River Valley and along the broad crest of the Milke Dande
to the roadhead at Basantapur.

5. Sinian La:

From our campsite the path contoured round before zig-zagging directly up the steep open hillside. At a black tarn in a corry we
stopped for an early lunch. An even steeper climb followed but as we gained height we were rewarded with a fabulous, bird's-eye view of the
Yalung glacier and the encircling snow and rock peaks. We seemed to be even higher than Kabru and Ratong. Reaching a set of cairns, the Mirgin La, the gradient eased off. A rough, stony path then contoured through boulder fields and scree slopes beneath rocky escarments. A long, undulating traverse ensued across a high-level plateau. It seemed to go on for ever crossing spur after spur. Below us to the north extended a vast sea of cloud pierced by occasional rock spires and pinnacles. Rounding yet another bend I was stopped in midstride by the
breathtaking view ahead. Across a deep valley was the charismatic Jannu, rising dramatically above rugged brown foothills. This was the Sinian La at some 5000m and it was now downhill all the way through russet-brown hillsides covered in shrub azaleas. When they flower in
springtime it must be truly beautiful. Dark was falling as we set up camp in the tussocky grass of a boulder-strewn amphitheatre. It had
been a long hard day but a memorable one. ln the morning we continued on a descending traverse round the hillside through the azaleas and fragrant dwarf juniper.

Crossing another spur, the Tama La, the ribbon-like Ghunsa Khola appeared in the valley far below. Surmounting the opposite ridgetop, like some gigantic fortress, was the “rocky summit of Sharpu surrounded by snowfields and hanging glaciers.
Further down, the azaleas gave way to rhododendrons with leaves ,still shriveled by the overnight frost. On the valley floor we glimpsed
the miniature fields and houses of Ghunsa before entering a forest of fir trees where the tangled, exposed roots required careful footwork.
The path emerged from the forest onto pleasant meadows beside a sparkling stream. On the far bank another path led off to the Lapsang La - a higher and more difficult route to Yalung. After lunch we proceeded into the Sherpa village of Ghunsa with its ramshackle timber houses and white vertical prayer flags fluttering from tall poles. A cold drizzle was falling as we set up’ camp in a yak pasture beyond the village. I checked in at the police station then accompanied Prem on a house to house shopping search for some items we were lacking. The ruddy cheeked Sherpanis in their multicoloured, striped aprons were amiable but hard bargainers.

In the morning our two Yamphudin porters received their well-earned wages and, with cheerful farewells, set off back across the pass to return to their village. Patches of blue were beginning to materialize in the cloud cover as we trudged across the short springy turf of the yak pastures into a deep carpet of pine needles on the forest path running alongside the turbulent, green waters of the river. Above the conifers soared sheer rock faces beneath crenellated ridgetops of spires and pinnacles. Higher still were occasional summits of snow and ice peaks. From the heights huge waterfalls cascaded in plumes of white. As we went, our party would periodically stretch: and contract. Lalu, on his first trek without having to carry a doko ( wickerwork basket for loads }, would race ahead followed at a more leisurely pace by Nima, Prem and myself. Bringing up the rear would be the two Rai porters. Every so often Lalu would stop, usually at some place he wanted his photo to be taken, and we would all regroup. The loads being carried ranged from a mere 10kg for my daysac to deadweights of some 30kg for the dokos of the porters.Crossing the river by a disintegrating wooden bridge protected by prayer flags the route climbed through junipers and pines to emerge onto a narrow path traversing a massive landslip. It was a long, steep drop to the white waters raging below.

The hilltops were obscured by a heavy mist. Beyond the landslip the path contoured along the grassy hillside before dropping to the small,summer settlement of Kambachen with its stone-walled fields in a broad side-valley.The village was deserted for the winter but Prem had borrowed a key in Ghunsa for one of the houses. My staff ensconced themselves inside having erected my tent in the black earth of a potato field. Clear skies next morning revealed spectacular scenery. To the north the hillsides swept up to the rocky ramparts and shining snow slopes of Sharpu. To the south, across the Ghunsa Khola, ranged a quartet of mighty ice-clad peaks: Jannu, the twin summits of Sobithongie and Phole, and Khabur - all in shadowy silhouette against the rising sun.From Kambachen the track continued up the savagely eroded Ghunsa valley. As we boulder-hopped across a rough scree slope we met a longstring of porters descendingw Many were ill-clad against the bitter cold with their bare arms folded tightly across their chests in an attempt to keep warm. Following behind was a group of 8 trekkers snugly clad in down jackets and over-trousers. Beyond a deep snow-field, beneath an ice-bound waterfall, we reached the terminal moraine of the Kangchenjunga glacier. A short steep climb led up to open, boulder-strewn, tundra and a splendid vista of high mountains ranging the length of the valley. Immediately above us to the south loomed the fearsome face of Merra with its sharply pointed summits.

An easy walk over the level moorland soon gained the yak pastures of Lhonak. Surprisingly they were still occupied by a group of hardy Tibetan herdsmen who had installed their black tents within the roofless walls of old stone buildings. A good protection from the biting wind. They recommended a sheltered campsite amongst large boulders which would catch the first rays of the morning sun. Across the tundra, above the glacial moraines, soared the objective of our trek. Framed between the two 6000m pillars of Merra and Chang Himal, was a gigantic barrier of snow and ice crested by a long rocky ridgetop - the north.face of Kangchenjunga. I walked through the yaks to the top of the lateral moraine and sat alone in the absolute silence amidst the awe-inspiring mountain scenery. Clouds and mist were beginning to drift up the valley and I headed eastwards. A row of snow peaks lined the horizon ahead. I stopped at a deep, sheer-sided gully gouged out by a side-stream. On the far side, a level grassy terrace continued above the moraine onto Pang Pema, the site for expedition base camps. Across the glacier, above wreaths of mist, loomed lofty summits of snow and ice. I waited until the view had completely disappeared in the enveloping mists before retreating. Two days later we were back in Ghunsa glad to be returning to warmer climes. In Ghunsa I visited the local secondary school and made a donation from the fund I had raised before coming to Nepal.

6. Ghunsa to Besantapur:

It was overcast and dismal when we left Ghunsa passing by the old moss-covered chortens and unusual mani-stones with their multiply repeated mantra "Om mani padme hum" in multi-coloured symbols. The path followed the northern bank of the river into a mixed forest of bamboo, rhododenron and pine. On the higher slopes the snow reached below the tree-line with the conifers etched in green against the white. We were now on the trade route and small family groups heavily laden with hand-woven carpets were encountered also making their way to the road-head at Besantapur.some 10 days hence. Beyond the Tibetan refugee settlement of Phere the V-shaped valley contracted to a narrow defile. The volume of the Ghunsa Khola had dramatically swollen from the many sidestreams and a tremendous roar emanated from the foaming waters as they crashed down over great boulders. It had been an easy morning's walk on a gently inclined gradient but after lunch the path oscillated wildly up and down and in and out of numerous side gullies. Our rate of progress was drastically reduced and it was not until after dark that we eventually stumbled into Amjillasa with its cluster of wickerwork huts and meagre terraces. Next day a narrow track contoured beneath rugged crags along a steep, open hillside high above the ravine. Across the valley a farm house perched in a seemingly inaccessible location. Before us lekh after lekh ( range of hills lower than himals ) extended to the farwestern horizon. Further on the path spiralled . "tightly down a series of hairpins to the banks of the river which were then followed to a pleasant meadow at Sakathun. Looking back up the gorge the white tip of a snow peak could be seen above the sombre brown and green foothills. 

After breakfast a slender bamboo bridge across the frightening torrent gained the southern bank which soon led to the confluence with the Tamur River. Around a spur the wide cataract was further swollen by the waters of the Simbua Khola issuing from its side-valley. A swaying suspension bridge took us to the opposite side where a level path wound its way through green deciduous forests filled with the noise of a myriad insects. We lunched in a leafy glade amidst slender birch trees. Continuing alongside the turbulent waters a long flat stretch before the village of Tapethak was followed by a rough switchback to Chirwa amidst high rugged, vegetated hillsides with occasional cultivated terraces. We proceeded through the somewhat squalid village and encamped in a rice field above the river. In the evening we were joined at our campfire by the farmer but conversation was limited. He spoke only a little Nepali. The local language was Limbu with which neither Prem nor Lalu was familiar. From Chirwa the path switchbacked over spurs and into gullies as it followed the bank of the Tamur river. At a constriction in the steep-sided valley a tenuous, slippery path traversed an extensive landslip only a few feet above the surging waters - not for the fainthearted or unsure of foot. Beyond this awkward section the valley opened into level fields and pastures occupied by a group of Tibetan nomads and their large flock of sheep. Further along we came to the large village of Sinwa with its two-storied, mud-walled, thatched-roofed shophouses.

I was engaged in conversation ( " What is your name? ", " What is your country? ", " What is .... "  by a group of friendly children whilst Prem and Lalu went shopping for alo ( potatoes ) and chamil ( rice ). Beyond the village the path climbed above the river through farms with terraces bordered with banana palms and scarlet-flowered poinsettas. We stopped for lunch at a chautaara before descending to the riverside and continuing to the Limbu village of Mitlung with the women in gaily patterned dresses and gold nose jewelry. After Mitlung the route climbed steeply away from the river. Two canteloupes, bought for a few rupees, made a refreshing snack - it was my first taste of this pink-fleshed, exotic fruit. Contouring round the hillside led to a long traverse on a narrow track across a huge landslip. A short suspension bridge over a deep ravine was followed by a winding ascent through the sprawling Brahmin and Chetri hill village of Handiwa with its red-ochre and whitewash farmhouses. We encamped in a rice terrace beneath the spreading boughs of a large burr tree.

Next morning we continued to climb through the extended village of Handiwa. Rounding the hillside we came to another enormous landslip - like some vast open quarry. Not long after we entered the narrow flag-stoned streets of Taplejung with its stonebuilt, three-storied houses with corrugated-iron roofs and brightly painted, ornate woodwork. We encamped in the walled couttyard of the local gompa ( buddhist monastary ). It was a Saturday and I accompanied Prem and Lalu on a shopping trip to the noisy, congested weekly market taking place on the outskirts of town. Meanwhile Nima had his boots re-stitched by one of the many shoe repairers. From Taplejung our route was steeply downhill through fir forests orchards of orange trees, farms with their picturesque red and white, thatched roofed cottages, and large burr trees whose peach-like fruit littered the ground. As we descended towards the Tamur river Jannu began to emerge above the ridgetops - first the summit tip then the familiar head-and-shoulders appeared. Reaching the riverside we ceossed a long swaying, suspension bridge over the swift-flowing, turbulent waters into the village of Dobhan where a final check was made on my permit at the local police station.

It was our second short day in a row and we had the tents pitched before lunch in a terrace above the village. The sunny afternoon was a good opportunity for some much needed clothes washing. Next day was one of unrelenting ascent as we climbed the terraced hillside with its farmhouses with intricately carved balustrades and clusters of golden corn cobs hanging beneath their eaves. An increasingly fine view of Jannu and Kangchenjunga was obtained as we gained altitude. At the village of Nesum where we stopped for lunch I made a donation to the local primary school. The Brahmin headmaster was dressed in white in mourning for his father. In the late afternoon we passed a large German group encamped at the small settlement of Gorcha Gaon. They were on a 10 day trek from Hille via the Arun valley to Besantapur and were the first trekkers we had seen for many days. We continued further uphill to a nicesecluded campsite in a grassy dell. Nearing the ridgetop the terraces gave way to rhododendron forest. An undulating walk through the woodlands took us to a col from where a traverse across the hillside gained the Sherpa village of Gupha Pokhari with its small lake astride another broad ridgetop. 

During the afternoon the weather had deteriorated and by the evening it was snowing. Morning however brought clear blue skies and a spectacular himalayan panorama. Ranged along the northern skyline was a wall of white dominated by the triangular wedge of Makalu. I climbed to the ridgetop just above the campsite for a better view and was delighted to find that on the other side to the east there was also a fine view over to Jannu and Kangchenjunga. From my vantage point Makalu was reflected in the still dark waters of the pokhari ( lake ). The sun had not yet cleared the horizon and it was still freezing cold but already a steady stream of porters carrying goods to the roadhead at Besantapur was issuing from the wickerwork huts of the village. I waited for the sunrise before returning to the tents for breakfast. As we walked along the ridgetop we identified some of the peaks ranged along the horizon:- Makalu, Chamlang, Kang Taiga, Thamserku, and Number. Others remained a mystery. At Loma Pokhari, another small lake with a cluster of dwellings, the path dropped below the ridgetop and we lost sight of the mountains. The route continued through rhododendron forests, across long flat stretches of grassland and past occasional groups of houses before we arrived at the larger village of Chauki with its flagstoned main street lined with tall poles and their long white prayer flags. Beyond the village we camped in an open grassy meadow encircled by woodlands. Unfortunately a row of improperly covered toilet pits testified to the use by many previous groups.

It was a freezing cold night with a starry sky and crescent moon. ln the morning the ground was white with frost and the tents frozen stiff. To the north Makalu and the other himalaya were again in view - dazzling white in the brilliant sunshine. A level path through woods was followed by a short but steep climb to a col on a ridgetop for a final view of Jannu and Kangchenjunga. From here the path continued along the ridge before descending through the rhododendrons and meadows to the closely packed houses and shops of Besantapur. We proceeded through the crowded streets and pitched our tents for the last time on a terrace above the roadhead. Later I formally thanked my trekking crew for all their efforts on my behalf throughout the trek and rewarded them each with a few hundred rupees baksheesh ( money present ). They had been a good team and performed admirably. Next morning we boarded the bus for Daran. Our two Rai porters were not returning to Kathmandu and left us at Hille to walk back to their village of Bung some 10 days distant. At Daran we transferred to the night bus for Kathmandu. In the confusion two ice- axes were left under the seats. Lalu stayed behind. He was going to visit his home in the Terai for a few days before returning. This time there were no hold-ups in the journey and Prem, Nima and I arrived early the next morning in Kathmandu - the end of our 32 day adventure. And all problems successfully overcome.

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