October 26, 2024, day 10
To Lake Gosaikunda awaits us an eleven-kilometer route with a one thousand one hundred and thirty meters of elevation gain. As we climb, the forest fades into rocky lands that rise above the surrounding landscape. For lunch we stop at Laurebina, at an altitude of three thousand nine hundred. Laurebina consists of only two buildings, two guesthouses. We drop our backpacks on wooden benches outside equipped with tables, then Padàm takes my lunch order. I allow myself two dishes, fried rice with vegetables and roasted potatoes. When you walk and you are uphill, eating a lot is not a wise choice but so it is, I am hungry.
To my left there is a group of Germans that I had already met in the morning along the way. One of them, a corpulent woman in her sixties, breaks away from the group and sits next to me. She rests her arms on the table and lowers her head. She closes her eyes. After a while a thread of drool begins to hang from her lips. She is tired, the road is tough. She realizes what is happening and, a little embarrassed, she pulls herself together. She staggers back to her friends.
While waiting for lunch, I look at the view. The sky is clear, there is no wind. Below us, a carpet of white clouds. For those of us up here it is a bright sunny day, for those down there it is already dark. The peaks of the Himalayas scratch the horizon. Some of them stand out with their unmistakable silhouettes, Annapurna, the mountain of the goddess of the same name, Ganesh Himal, the snowy mountain of Ganesh, the elephant god, and then a mountain with a pair of horns on top: Manaslu, the mountain of the spirit. I observe it, and perhaps it observes me. One day we will meet, we say.
Beyond those peaks, the Tibetan border.
I eat my lunch.
Three young women arrive out of breath. They drop their backpacks, then some sit on the ground. One of them remains standing and pushes her gaze towards the horizon. We exchange a few words. She points me in the direction of Annapurna.
- I did the Annapurna loop, - she tells me satisfied. - And you? Are you going up or down? -
- I go up, - I tell her.
- Which loop did you do? -
- I come from there, - and I point to the top of Langtang Lirung, behind us.
- Which villages did you touch? - I tell her, telling her the details of my route, of Kjiangin Gompa of Kijangin Ri, of Tserko Ri, of the Langtang River, of the subtropical forest.
- Initially I wanted to do the Annapurna loop, - I explain, - but then I saw that it was too crowded and I opted for Langtang Valley. -
- I'll tell you, the Annapurna ring was a great experience but maybe your route is better, it's more varied, you see more things. On the Annapurna ring you are constantly at altitude, views everywhere, snow-capped peaks everywhere. From this point of view it's a bit monotonous. Next time I'll do the Langtang valley. -
Her words give me a sense of satisfaction, dispelling those few regrets I had for having missed the Annapurna ring.
- Where are you from? - she asks me.
- From Sicily, Italy. -
- Beautiful, - she says.
- And where are you from? - I ask her
- From Israel, - she says, looking over the valley.
A block of ice falls on our conversation. Moments of thick silence. That silence evokes images of war, Gaza, Netyanahu's face, rubble, dead bodies, echoes of bombs. But I don't intend to open the conversation. I do not think and do not intend to think that all Israeli citizens are responsible for genocide.
I bring my attention back to the mountains surrounding us by talking about Tserko Ri. Then comes her lunch and the lunch of her friends. I wish them bon appetit. I take a break before grabbing my backpack and continuing on towards Gosaikunda.
No more than two kilometers of path await us, but a height difference of four hundred meters also awaits us. Rocca Busambra, the beloved rock of the province of Palermo that I now climb as if I were looking out from my balcony, has an altitude of one thousand six hundred and thirteen meters, to reach its summit it takes four kilometers of path and six hundred meters of height difference. The comparison with what awaits me for the Gosaikunda is easy to make. The double meal of lunch is making itself felt but never mind, I proceed more slowly, after all I am in no hurry.
A little further up in Laurebina there is the Laurebina Pass. We allow ourselves a break. There is a bronze statue of Buddha surrounded by hundreds of colored pennants. The panorama extends everywhere, a sense of peace extends everywhere, a sense of balance. I sit on a dry stone wall.
I do nothing else for a good half hour.
The path climbs up the rocks. The perimeter is equipped with a handrail to ensure the passage of the crowds of devotees of Shiva and Buddha. To our right, the abyss.