Muktinath to Kagbeni – and the coloured girls sing (6th blog today)

Well, maybe not so wild side, but not tame either. We’ve settled into a routine of fried eggs on toast for breakfast. One portion of toast is 2 slices so we share one me and Jet. Who, after yesterday’s performance on the pass crossing, should be called Jumping Jet Flash. She done good.

We set off at 9am and started the downhill route to Kagbeni, with the views from the guest house outstanding.

Above the village a Buddhist shrine stood out majestically against the blue sky. Odd that this village is a very holy place for Hindus but the locals are all Buddhists.

The village itself is starting to develop in recognition of its religious status and popularity, but is still a two star town and we haven’t given up on breaking out of it (thanks Brandon).

The road up to the village was recently rebuilt and ended just outside in an impressive car park, full of buses and jeeps. As we worked our way down dozens more vehicles, full of pilgrims, comen from the valley, all hot. So we are on the downhill path, with women carrying bags of rice back home, coming the other way. 

Partway down to the next village the valley opened up to the right with a vision of Shangri -La.

The weather was fantastic for walking. Warm and sunny with a pleasant breeze. It lightened the heart. And I couldn’t resist a pose with my mate Sulis.

Ever wondered what marigolds look like with apple trees in the Himalayas. Beautiful.

Looking forward down the mountain was the next mountain range, the Dhaulagiri massif (or something like that).

And dropping down further we caught a good view of Jet, with Kagbeni being a side show behind.

Most villages have a big slice of self-sufficiency, necessary before connection by track to the outside world. And Kagbeni has this market garden next to it.

As we came down to the village the northwestern most peaks of the Annapurna range appeared to our left.

We checked in to our guest house, had a great lunch and then roamed around the village. Fancy a Yaccy D?

This is the start of the Upper Mustang valley which works its way towards Mongolia. 

The village was plagued by ghosts many years ago and the locals put up statues to scare them away. Apparently it worked. Must have put the willies up them.

The river that runs past the village becomes the Ganges and is the holy river. Pilgrims to Muktinath stay here en route and undergo death ceremonies where they pay tribute, with holy men, to their deceased relatives. This photo was taken after the guide (a Hindu himself) confirmed that it would not be irreverential. This is a death ceremony.

Back to the guest house. Dinner. Sleep. 

Night night.