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Tortured trekker Dawne Belloise sends forth Crested Butte’s prayers from the glorious flanks of Annapurna.
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hoever said, “What doesn’t kill me will make me stronger” never climbed the endless steps through Nepal’s Himalayan mountain villages, the uneven pathways to the massive Annapurna sentinels. Months on a Stairmaster couldn’t prepare a trekker for the relentlessly vertical stone steps of torture one must ascend and descend through villages, bamboo forests and mountainsides to reach the Annapurna Base Camp. My journey began deceptively easy, reading online journals with alluring photos of the world’s highest peaks. Noting the relative calm in the Nepalese political climate, I called the cat sitter, bought a backpack and booked a flight. “Take Red Lady prayer flags with you,” insisted Wendy McDermott of the High Country Citizen’s Alliance. So my pack bore three small, tightly wound rolls of rich red prayer flags designed by Crested Buttians, from children to grandparents, to bring awareness and affirmation to the cause of saving Mt. Emmons – a.k.a. The Red Lady – from a proposed massive molybdenum mine. Where better to send forth the petition of an entire town than from the heaven-tending peaks of Annapurna? After 30 hours of airports and cramped jets, I arrived in the chaotic craziness of Kathmandu – cows, dogs, touts and mass throngs of humanity clamoring in the sweltering dirty heat of midday. After a few days of jet-lag recuperation, it was time to escape to Pokhara, the gateway to the Annapurna trailheads. The bus rattled out of the dingy city up through cleaner mountain air and narrow, curvy, nail-biting roads for eight hours to the lakeside resort town. “No problem, I can get you a good guide, been in mountains many times, from good family,” my hotel and trekking company owner promised. Everyone in Nepal is a guide, was a guide or owns a trekking company. “I want a woman guide,” I stated matter-offactly. He looked horrified, like I had just kicked his dog and spanked his kids. “Women are not good guides, they aren’t strong and can’t carry the weight. They want to turn around when it gets hard,” he said. Yet, it was the women I saw carrying baskets ten times their own weight with rocks, hay and goods piled high. An American living in Pokhara confirmed my suspicions. “Oh, all the men tell you that — because they see women coming into the trekking business as a threat.” I was directed to the north end of the village, just past the clutch of tourist spots where the road became dust, to Three Sisters Adventure Trekking and Guest House. In a school building next door to the lodge, a sign read “Empowering Women of Nepal” – the perfect guide to help deliver the Red Lady prayer flags to Annapurna. Dhanu, a softspoken 20-year-old with some miles under her belt, was to be my trek sister. Back at the hotel, the halfdozen men always hanging around the front desk drinking tea went wide-eyed, shaking their heads in horror as I told them I’d booked a female porterguide. The next day we headed out into thunderous skies and rain that turned to downpour. The way was wrought with uneven boulder and stone stairs, which became even steeper as the trail progressed Crested Butte Magazine
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