On the Marsyandi

Stone houses

We expected hiking in the Himalayas to be strenuous and awe-inspiring, which it is. We did not expect to step into an epic fantasy novel:

Exhausted after another 8-hour trek, our heroes stumbled into the Thorung Lodge, and quickly discarded their packs on the dusty wooden floor. Looking at the grime-covered travellers the innkeeper had already begun heating a bucket of water for them to wash.

Thankful to have stepped out of the chilling wind and into the warm kitchen, they ordered cups of the local whiskey to ease their aching bones. Steaming cups of tea at wayside shops sufficed to beat off the cold during the day, but as night began to fall, eating a hearty dinner near the kitchen fire was necessary to thaw the travellers.

Clean and fed an hour later, the travellers reflected on their journey so far. They had spent 4 days following the Marsyandi River, on paths mainly trafficked by streams of donkeys delivering goods to these far reaches. Looking out the window at the soaring snow-capped mountains, they brooded about the days to come and ordered another cup of whiskey.

Clearly, our future career calling is not writing fantasy novels, and our aching bodies plead for an office chair, but as long as we’re here we’ll be keepig an eye out for elves, trolls, and yetis.


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