Readers’ wildlife videos: Andrew Berry treks in northwest Nepal

My friend Andrew Berry, who teaches and advises biology students at Harvard, has long had the bug that infected me when I was younger: the desire to trek in Nepal, where the mountains are impossibly high. This summer he took a long guided trek into little-visited parts of Nepal (guides are required for these places), producing a great 37-minute video (bottom) accompanied by music and sound. (For further mountain adventures, see Andrew’s one-hour video of his 2023 trek to Dolpo and the fabled Kingdom of Mustang, featured in these pages.)  The notes below are his:

Limi Valley Trek, June ’24

Like Jerry, I’ve spent a lot of time over the years in Nepal, most often on a trail, trekking. It’s hard to beat a high altitude encounter with the mightiest mountains on earth.  I’m on an academic schedule, which means that I have plenty of opportunity to go travel over the summer, but unfortunately trekking, Nepal, and the summer don’t really go that well together.  The most pressing of my university responsibilities cease around the beginning of June.  The monsoon typically arrives in Nepal in the middle of that same month, veiling the mountains in banks of cloud, soaking the trekker (and everyone else), and delighting/stimulating/exciting the voracious leeches that inhabit the montane forests.  In short, monsoon trekking is pretty dismal.

There are however some regions of Nepal that are less affected by the monsoon than others.  Specifically, the further west and north you go, the less the impact.  It is, after all, the Bay of Bengal branch of the monsoon that inundates Nepal, so it is coming from the east.  Heading north is to take advantage of the rain shadow imposed by the main cordillera of the Himalaya.  Some regions of Nepal are north of the range — they’re politically Nepal but geographically, culturally, and linguistically Tibetan.  In summer ’23 I went to Dolpa and Mustang, this summer to Simikot, the main town in the NW corner of Nepal.  This kind of trekking is a far remove from the kind of ‘teahouse’ trekking that Jerry and I are accustomed to: you walk from village to village and stay in local accommodations, meaning that you can get away with carrying little more than a sleeping bag.  To visit the more remote areas, you’re required to have expensive permits and to be accompanied by officially recognized guides.  In addition, because these routes take you beyond inhabited areas, it’s necessary to camp and to be self-sufficient in food and other supplies.  The result of these joint requirements is a logistically complex undertaking — thank goodness for the excellent outfitter I work with in Kathmandu, Raj Dhamala of Himalayan Trekkers.

I’ve always wanted to go to Simikot.  After spending six months in Nepal before going to university, I had a map of the country on the wall of my room for all three years of college.  As I stared at it, Simikot came, for me, to symbolize the remote, inaccessible Nepal that had been out of bounds for me the year before (for financial and permitting reasons).  It’s taken a few years actually to convert that fixation into an actual visit (42, if you insist on asking!), but I’m happy to report that Simikot didn’t disappoint.  The town is clustered around a Twin Otter landing strip, a slice of the horizontal — well, a slice of gentle slope — in a world of plunging verticals.  The mighty Karnali river crashes through its gorge far, far below.  Plenty of trekker-tourists come through (for many, it’s a jumping off point for a visit to Buddhism’s holy mountain, Kailash, in Tibet), but Simikot remains primarily an administrative and trading center.  Google Translate’s influence has not apparently extended to Simikot (or at least it hadn’t when this sign was painted)

 

Our route started — initially in a Jeep — and finished in Simikot.  Two weeks.  Its main focus was the Limi Valley, which runs W-E just south of, and parallel to, the Chinese/Tibetan border.  An upside of the timing is that this is the time of year that livestock — cattle, sheep, goats, yak — are moved up to high altitude summer pastures, meaning that we frequently encountered people and their animals undertaking the same seasonal migrations that their ancestors (both human and animal) have done for aeons.  It truly is a privilege to spend time in such spectacular country, and to meet so many people living lives so far removed from ours.  With Raj in Kathmandu, I had discussed the possibility of tacking on a (minor) peak ascent on to the trek, but I ended up wimping out.  Just a hike for me: 5000m (16,400′) over passes is plenty high enough for me.  I think Ang Dawa, one of three wonderful Sherpa guides with me, was a little disappointed by this lack of serious climbing (he’s summited Everest five times, so he’s entitled to his disappointment)

Here’s a video montage from the trip.  I like to take panoramic photos in country like this, and I think a slow pan across images like these is the best way to appreciate the scenery.  Also, I can’t resist shooting plenty of video too.  So much to see!