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| Chheyma Lake |
Today’s adventure took us to Chheyma Lake. The hike itself sounded manageable on paper: 3km each way. There was that niggly 2.8 kilometres continuous uphill with a 400-metre elevation gain with the additional small complication that the starting point was already around 3,300 metres above sea level.
Progress of our uphill walk in thin air was therefore measured in very small increments. We stopped every 20–50 metres to catch our breath, admire the view, and pretend this was all part of the plan.
Mustang sits in a high-altitude desert north of the main Himalayan range, so the landscape is dramatically different from the greener valleys further south in Nepal. The region is also famous for its fierce afternoon winds. By late morning and early afternoon, powerful gusts often funnel through the Kali Gandaki Valley as warm air rises from the plains and rushes between the Annapurna and Dhaulagiri ranges. Fortunately we had started early.
Eventually we reached the lake, and it was worth every gasping step. Chheyma Lake sat quietly in a wide alpine basin, its water crystal clear and reflecting the surrounding mountains. Even better, we had the entire place to ourselves.
The team had sent a horse ahead carrying picnic supplies, so by the time we arrived a full lunch setup was already waiting. Before lunch, however, there was the matter of the cold plunge. The water temperature was estimated to be somewhere between five and eight degrees Celsius.
Mal had confidently informed us that his cold-plunge-enthusiast surgeon had advised that the ideal immersion time was eleven minutes. So while I lasted what I thought was a heroic eleven seconds, Mal committed fully and stayed in for the entire eleven minutes. This seemed extremely impressive. Right up until we discovered later that the recommendation had actually been eleven minutes total… per week.
And thus was born the story of how Mal nearly gave himself hypothermia in the Himalayas. It took him most of lunch to stop shivering. This was not helped by the fact that he initially refused to remove his wet swimmers and put on additional clothing, insisting that a T-shirt was sufficient. His down jacket, incidentally, was still sitting in the car because he “didn’t think he needed it”. Eventually common sense prevailed.
The moral of the story: do not trek with Mal. It is worse than trekking with a toddler.
Also, for reasons unknown (actually he mansplained the physiology 3 times), he managed to stop and empty his bladder no fewer than six times during the hike.
Fortunately we began our descent just in time. The famous Mustang winds started to build and dark clouds rolled in over the valley. By the time we were heading back down the trail the gusts had picked up and rain began sweeping across the slopes.
Perfect timing.
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| I really love our flight of juice shots. It changes daily! |
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| Nilgiri Mountain, part of the Annapurna range |
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| Some archery before hiking |
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| If you ever needed to hunt for food. Belinda is your go to |
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| Umm...are we in Animal Kingdom at Walt Disney World |
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| Start of the hike |
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| The unobstructed mountain is Dhaulagiri, 7th tallest mountain at 8,167 meters |
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| Frequent breaks... |
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| We made it! |
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| Look what was waiting for us! |
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| Natural refridgeration |
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| My favourite warm apple cider was waiting for me too |
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| They had prepared robes, towels and slippers for our cold plunge |
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| The only way to do it is to jump straight in |
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| Me watching Mal get hypothermia |
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| Still going |
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| I feel great he said |
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| He had to sun like a lizard. Lucky it was sunny and the rock was very warm |
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| We even had musical entertainment who also happened to be the HR manager |
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| Chicken bao for mains |
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| Very proud of ourselves for our achievement! |
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| This may be a contributing factor to the constant toilet stops |
Back at the lodge, our afternoon activity was something completely different: a consultation with the local amchi, a traditional Himalayan healer. Amchi medicine is part of Tibetan medical tradition and combines herbal treatments, spiritual practices and detailed physical diagnosis. Our practitioner was a twelfth-generation amchi whose family had been practising in the region for centuries.
The consultation began with pulse readings, in what felt like about a hundred different variations. He checked both wrists repeatedly, sometimes while asking us to breathe differently. As Western-trained doctors ourselves, we found the physical examination fascinating. It included feeling along our spines, adjusting our arms and shoulders, and various techniques we had never encountered before.
The surprising part was that his conclusions about our various ailments were remarkably accurate.
Mal spent some time discussing medicine with him afterwards, and we were impressed by how grounded and thoughtful he was about the role of traditional healing alongside modern medical care. He was very clear about where his treatments could help, and equally clear about when patients should seek hospital care instead. Not wishy-washy at all.
After that, there was really only one logical way to finish the day. Massage, spa and dinner.
Life in Mustang continues to be very agreeable.
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| Amchi notes! |
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| Can you guess the theme from the decorations? |
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| Tonight's dinner. I can't believe I would every say I like goat curry but there you go |
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| Beetroot carpaccio |
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| More gifts! |
