Squishy mud, slippery clay. Luscious moss, cat-faced trees. Steep ridges, fierce granite. Warm sunshine, pouring rain. Trash bag-encased Ebay violin, tent practice time. Sopping rain gear, warm caves. Heavy packs, ornithological wonder. 35-degree nights, fire-warmed stones in the sleeping bag. Thinning oxygen, sore quads. Ember-lit card games, bursts of laughter. Stunning beauty free of human disturbance, Kanchenjunga. 1 magical trail pup, 2 yaks, 13,000 feet, and the most memorable 6 days in the Himalayan backcountry.
In order to ensure safety in a country where that isn’t always a given, we hired a guide to show us the ropes on an incredible weeklong trek in the remote lands of West Sikkim, India’s tiny far north state tucked in-between Bhutan and Nepal, sitting just below China. It’s fascinating to see how different people from this region look as compared to other parts of India – it felt like I was among my Korean relatives all of a sudden.
What we didn’t know was that “hiring a guide” in Sikkim comes with a yak-and-cook package (!) – Jordan and my first experience with such an affair. These yaks – who defy logic carrying pots, pans, and a week’s worth of food through tiny mountain passes, down sludgy shoots, and up steep inclines for miles on end – are a sight to behold, and it meant that I (the usual “trail chef”) got to take out my camp kitchen and food haul, which made my pack happily many pounds lighter.
There was of course the requisite low point where I (on Day 4 after a triple climb-and-descend with some pretty serious elevation gain amidst pouring rain) did some immensely graceful banana-peel-style wipeouts, but being greeted at camp by our trail pup (who followed us the entire journey – we named her Tri-Co) and a cup of hot tea made the adventure even more extraordinary. And my “camp violin” survived the elements, making way for some mini summit concerts and tent toiling on my newest raga, Bahudari.
As we ascended through tiny Buddhist villages in the Sikkim foothills – which are filled with kind and warm people who live collectively – up into the high mountains, I was taken aback by the sight of limitless original-growth forests, the flora bursting with color, and the deliciously crisp waterfalls. My, what things are like sans human interference. The sheer joy of stopping at river crossings and streams to fill our water bottles brought me back to the rolling hills of Gangwondo, and though much of the journey was under chilly rain clouds, the breaks of sunshine provided for some of the most spectacular moments. Our rockstar guide, Bhai-Chung, ushered us from base camp to base camp, and told us stories about his childhood and legends of the land as we trekked. Jordan and I fell so madly in love with Tri-Co that we’re actually looking into what it would take to adopt her and bring her home…
While I do my best to avoid the soul-crushing news of the political landscape back home in the States and feel heartbroken for the continued bloodshed between India and Pakistan, there are places and people like this, making getting up each day and trying to do good things easier. Until soon, Lady Kanchenjunga.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The two months leading up to the trek were filled with lots of lessons and classes, guest lectures and concerts, a couple of birding excursions, and a very special day with the “Undertold Stories” team from the PBS News Hour – who hung out with me for some day-in-the-life coverage – I’m honored that a piece on my time here in India bridging the world between Carnatic and Western music will air later this season.
Cooking classes (my Indian “mom” Meena Aunty showed me the ropes for 5 of my favorite dishes) and exploring new hole-in-the-wall restaurants have made things extra yummy, while Kannada continues to be a tricky beast and I still can’t manage to get my thumb in the right position for fast gamakas. If only American fiddle or Western classical technique could translate more directly to the Carnatic violin…
And with that, some more photos from the archive:
And the rest of those Himalaya moments:
And…meet Tri-Co. She’s the magical doggy (Tri-Co since she’s tri-colored) who followed us our entire trek – even when she’d disappear for several hours while we hiked and we thought she’d gone back home, she’d appear like magic at our next campsite – and we fell madly in love. So sweet, gentle, strong, loving, and adorable – if we’re actually able to adopt her (there’s a mountain of paperwork and hoops to jump through for international pup adoption), we’ll rename her after the Buddhist village from where she hails, Lamathang.
Until soon.