Nepal and the Himalayas

What is stirring about this peak, in snow time, is its powerful shape, which even today, with no clouds passing, makes it appear to be forging through the blue. “The power of such a mountain is so great and yet so subtle that, without compulsion, people are drawn to it from near and far, as if by the force of some invisible magnet; and they will undergo untold hardships and privations in their inexplicable urge to approach and to worship the centre of this sacred power. . . . This worshipful or religious attitude is not impressed by scientific facts, like figures of altitude, which are foremost in the mind of modern man. Nor is it motivated by the urge to ‘conquer’ the mountain. . . .”

          Peter Matthiessen, The Snow Leopard (173-174), quoting Lama Angarika Govinda, The Way of the WhiteClouds

The secret of mountains is that the mountains simply exist, as I do myself: the mountains exist simply, which I do not. The mountains have no “meaning”, they are meaning; the mountains are. The sun is round. I ring with life, and the mountains ring, and when I can hear it, there is a ringing that we share. I understand all this, not in my mind but in my heart, knowing how meaningless it is to try to capture what cannot be expressed, knowing that mere words will remain when I read it all again, another day. 

          Peter Matthiessen, The Snow Leopard (195-196)

Our arrival in Nagarkot near twilight found us caught in a cold wind viewing evening clouds on the far horizon. Nothing too impressive. Because of a lack of light and limited electricity, along with any external source of heat except a pair of hot water bottles, we turned in after exhausting our computer batteries. Dark and cold and a bit boring were the operative terms our first night at the Peaceful Cottage in Nagarkot, Nepal. 

When we awoke in the morning and poked our heads out of the warm covers, C pulled back the curtains covering the long window above our headboard. We could tell that the sun was shining through the dew-covered pain. C wiped away the moisture and allowed us to behold the scene outside. On the far horizon, we saw a jagged line of gray-blue peaks, streaked with white, reaching into the stark blue sky. The view amazed us. Our awe of this limited scenery helped us face the cold outside our bed, and we went up for breakfast on the floor above us, where we beheld a panoramic view of the horizon. From our peak, well within the tree line, we looked below at a long, deep valley between high, green mountains that continued for a great distance before giving way to an area of density that concealed the base of the distant peaks. This opaque area created a no-man’s land of sorts that separated this mundane, green world from that of the peaks that defined the high horizon. As we looked, we could hear the staff naming the great peaks that looked so near. Somewhere, in the great distance (thereby concealing its towering majesty) lies Everest. I could not single it out, but no matter, those mountains within the foreground were sufficient to instill the awe that grabbed me. 

By a whim of good fortune I'd spied a copy of Peter Matthiessen’s The Snow Leopard during one of my early forays into an Indian bookshop. Like finding a discount candy shop, I indulged in it and a number of other titles. Matthiessen’s book had been on my mind for years, perhaps I’d even started it once. I purchased it thinking no more than this is another book that I should read—along with all of the others. However, when our trip to Nepal began to approach I hunted it down (it had been surreptitiously borrowed), and I began reading. As I hope that you can tell from the opening quotes, it served as a perfect meditation to consider what we saw out there. 

Perhaps because I was born and raised in a valley that was surrounded with nothing greater than rolling hills, mountains hold me in awe. In part, their intrigue arises from the physical stamina they elicit from us if we want to behold them and know them up close. On this day in Nepal, we followed our guide to an even greater height over a 90-minute hike, where the vistas offered us the imposing Himalayan peaks to the north, with their fractal horizon touching the sky, and to the south, mountains covered with lush, thick forests breathing life that could not exist at those exalted altitudes. Simply reaching that limited peak allowed me to celebrate that my ticker had passed another test and allowed me to rejoice a small victory it by taking in the wonderful vistas. 

But beyond the physical, mountains cast a spell as a representative of a higher power, at once immensely physical and immediate, while also suggestive of something beyond our minds’ easy grasp. Nature in her grandeur reveals herself to allow us to better perceive ourselves. From the basic appreciation of our meager statures, fleeting lives, and limited powers, to the deepest insights into existence, mountains elicit responses from us. Mountains can do that for me, and Matthiessen’s book provided an excellent backdrop with which to view these magnificent creations. 

Cold, human frailty, and the pull of other adventures took us away from our high perch on Nagarkot, but this evening in Katmandu the clouds lifted for a short period before sunset to reveal the magnificent display of the peaks once again. I would rue leaving so early if I was a stronger person, and if we were not bound for the Thar Desert. For who knows what lurks in the desert? 

N.B. For another commentary and photos, go to C's blog & Flickr site.