Duthik: Stories from Dolpo at The Kala Salon is Chering Gyaoo Gurung’s ode to his homeland of Dolpo using its native textiles and jewelry. It is also an urgent call to preserve the region’s culture, eroded by encroaching modernity, migration, and a changing climate. ‘I have always loved the textiles of my home, and these, along with the lapis, coral and other minerals used in our jewelry, have inspired my art,’ writes Gurung in his artist’s statement. The famous Dolpo blankets, weighty, richly coloured with linear patterns, hang alongside his paintings in the Salon, on the top floor of the Chhaya Center in Thamel. One of the blankets is his grandmother’s. “It almost still smells smoky, since we only use firewood,” says the soft-spoken 25-year-old. Dolpo in the trans-Himalaya is to the north of the Dhaulagiri range. Most people, incluyding the artist’s family are pastoralists, herding 100 yaks, goats and sheep. Many families also collect yarsagumba, and at one point that would make enough money to last the year, but not anymore. “From Dolpo, it is pretty unheard of to pursue art,” says Gurung, who is not traditionally trained in thangka like other Himalayan artists like Tsherin Sherpa or Dorjee Karmarong. But his passion for art showed early, when he came to Kathmandu at five to study.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080712_be467c0e9b9f2fd01148efb464a1c785b8c9ba66f09dd8308c311859a3682a9d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250723080712_be467c0e9b9f2fd01148efb464a1c785b8c9ba66f09dd8308c311859a3682a9d" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  “In Dolpo, we used to go to school for six months and work with our parents for six months. An aunt suggested that I might as well get some tuition during this time off. Once I came to Kathmandu, we found French sponsors and I stayed here to study,” recounts Gurung. Gurung lived in a hostel and studied under that sponsorship until grade ten. He got support from home for further studies until a bachelor’s in art, which he only finished two years ago. In the meantime, for him, art was a hobby he was good at, he would often win at competitions that this school took him to. Following graduation, many of Gurung’s peers did a lot of commission work and got burned out, while he received residencies, allowing him to stick to his own process and ideas, subsequently developing a style and a voice of his own. Gurung was the first of his family to move to Kathmandu like he did, and while that has led to a blossoming art career, he is wistful about the life he left behind. “The people I left behind lived sort of a perfect life in the village,” he says, even as it is clear herding yaks would not have been enough for his independent spirit. And migration is a big theme in his work, six of the paintings at the exhibition are named as much. Two of them show a mother walking with a baby on her back, and one depicts a snow leopard on the move with its cub.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080720_a916959c5a945e9d8c147219a094a548d9a08c8eb93d554a5e62105551a86592.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250723080720_a916959c5a945e9d8c147219a094a548d9a08c8eb93d554a5e62105551a86592" data-rendition-name="original" width="1000" height="667" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  “People migrate in generations, and because of this, they lose culture,” notes Gurung. Three others under the theme are spirals of clothes and masks, seemingly saying that migration causes deep changes in, and confusions about, one’s identity. The fabric of Dolpo and the outfits are prominently featured in almost every painting. “The women, in particular, are complete in how they dress up,” says Gurung. His women wear bhakkus and belts, and blankets and a complete set of necklaces and jewelry. An important detail is the vajra, traditionally a powerful Buddhist and Hindu mythical object and weapon, that the women use as a clip to hold the hems of their shawl together. “Note how the colours of the fabric are dull,” points out Gurung, explaining that these cloths are dyed naturally with ‘stone’ colours but fade quickly in the sun and the dust storms of Dolpo. To Gurung, the fabrics signify the Dolpo culture that he is so fond of, but disappearing. He laments that people would rather buy similar but cheaper blankets from Kathmandu or Tibet, and are abandoning traditional occupations, instead running hotels. “His feeling for Dolpo really shines through, and makes the paintings feel very warm,” says curator Sophia Pande. “I think the exhibition shows the unique style Chering has developed, and his range.” Another Dolpo detail that features heavily is bhoj patra, or birch bark paper which is used to write on as well as roofing material, given that it is waterproof. The sap of the birch tree is so sweet that it is also tapped and boiled for sugar. “People also carry it on yarchagumba trips, to use as light plates or cups. They can be washed and reused too,” adds Gurung.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250723080716_84ceef8066260cbe271158790e77bfc867dbab9cbaf23d13dc39202ef2a949f1.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20250723080716_84ceef8066260cbe271158790e77bfc867dbab9cbaf23d13dc39202ef2a949f1" data-rendition-name="original" width="667" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The fabric of society"> </figure>  Like the Dolpo blankets, reams of this bhoj patra and a bowlful of yarcha are also displayed and give a nuanced understanding of the Dolpo way of life. Gurung also has a series of paintings on the bark paper, the first of which is a sky blue ‘DHARMA MASK’ or ‘MUKUT’. &nbsp;“I mixed acrylic paint with glue and diluted it to use like watercolour on the bhoj patra, and I was very happy with how it turned out,” he explains of the piece. Gurung works out of White Yak studio in Lalitpur, a name he chose for the rare and revered version of the animal. “I plan to carry on with this subject matter as I haven’t exhausted all my ideas,” he says, “and I can still get better with my colouring.” Duthik: Stories from Dolpo By Chering Gyaoo Gurung The Kala Salon Chhaya Centre, Thamel 11am-8pm Until 17 August

Vishad Raj Onta

original

674x448

610x380

500x500

400x266

400x240

400x203

301x200

1250x600

1084x550

thumbnail

viewImage

The fabric of society

Chandra Basnet started walking from Jajarkot and five days later after climbing passes more than 5,300m high, she reached the desolate tent camp of <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19381">yarsagumba harvesters in Upper Dolpo</a>. The 21-year-old joined the seasonal migration with 40kg of supplies on her back and a baby daughter wrapped around her front with a shawl. Her husband carried an additional 20kg of supply. “Bringing my baby was the toughest part, it is hard to carry her,” says Chandra, who is on the third week of her stay. “There are no hospitals around here, so if she falls sick we have to pack up everything and walk back.” The Basnet family is among tens of thousands who move to the high mountains on the Tibet border in the pre-monsoon <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/its-yarsa-picking-time">yarsa gold rush every year</a>. Yarsagumba (Cordyceps fungus) is a fungus that grows on caterpillar larvae at between 3,500-5,000m elevation, and is prized in traditional Chinese medicine fetching up to $110,000 per kg in Shanghai.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_212fa6dfb8c231d21a6af7b7e87e0ffe9028c1feeabb22f833a19e7dfa4cc443.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2024083018080_212fa6dfb8c231d21a6af7b7e87e0ffe9028c1feeabb22f833a19e7dfa4cc443" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>All photos: Shrijan Pandey</figcaption> </figure>  The Shey-Phoksundo National Park in Dolpo issues harvest permits every year for a month starting mid-May. This year, there were 8,584 entries – double last year’s total. But climate breakdown and <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/overharvesting-yarsa-and-income,1546">overharvesting means that yarsa pickings have fallen</a> in quantity and quality. The Basnet family spent Rs500,000 to come here, expecting high returns but were able to make only Rs200,000. Says Chandra, “We went through a lot of hardships, but hoped we could at least make up the cost of coming here to help raise our daughter, but it was not worth it.”&nbsp; Until recently, yarsa was a lucrative albeit risky undertaking in Nepal’s highlands where subsistence farmers depend on it to <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18321">supplement their income</a>. But it is a dangerous occupation. Just this season Karnali Province reported the death of 12 harvesters. Conditions are tough. Most pickers cannot afford proper tents and clothing to cope with the harsh weather. Most bring their children along, and they are the first to fall sick. The health post at Dho Tarap was open, but there was no staff.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_dea884b9a059c76cbbecc3cf6cae70d7de5e08b069e87637c0ad297446661546.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2024083018080_dea884b9a059c76cbbecc3cf6cae70d7de5e08b069e87637c0ad297446661546" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>Chandra Basnet walked from Jajarkot to Upper Dolpo with 4okg of supplies and a toddler daughter.</figcaption> </figure>  Jamuna Bista, 22, died on her way back down to Rukum because she could not get medical care in time. Her family cremated her by lighting a pile of shrubs and roots gathered from the arid slopes.&nbsp; Apart from the difficult terrain, yarsa harvest is getting riskier because of higher temperatures, winter drought and unseasonal rain caused by climate breakdown. This affects the yarsa which needs a temperature of between -15°C &nbsp;to -5°C during the winter and pre-monsoon rain to grow properly and emerge partially from the ground.&nbsp; “Looking at the declining yarsa harvest and climate change, we are forced to question if yarsa will soon be extinct,” says Bishwo Babu Shrestha, warden of Shey Phoksundo National Park.&nbsp; This means a major source of livelihood for underserved families in the lower valleys of western Nepal will be in jeopardy, exacerbating the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/brain-gain-into-brain-drain">outmigration trend</a>. As more pickers return empty-handed or with losses that have driven them into debt, the families struggle to support their children.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_b6e6cb98c55696a49569229554a59686ec32e39096e1a03c37857e6e2940e34e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="2024083018080_b6e6cb98c55696a49569229554a59686ec32e39096e1a03c37857e6e2940e34e" data-rendition-name="original" width="1416" height="877" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  Kunsang Dorje Gurung, 38, of Tinje in Upper Dolpo harvested his first yarsagumba when he was 12. “It was like finding a gold nugget,” Dorje recalled. “I felt an intense energy.”&nbsp; However, in 26 years since, he has noticed a steep decline in the pickings, and the few yarsa that are collected are of poor quality. “I used to make up to Rs300,000 a season back in the day but now, I barely earn Rs30,000,” he says. Gurung blames this on a prolonged drought that also sparked wildfires across the mountains. Some families even performed rituals, praying for rain and a good yarsa harvest. “I don’t have any other job,” says Gurung. “The only thing I know is collecting yarsa. If I find enough, it’s a good year. If not, I have nothing.” Researchers have also plotted the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/giving-yarsagumba-a-chance-for-regrowth">decline in yarsa harvests</a> in the past five years. A kilogram of high-quality yarsa would have between 2,500-2,900 pieces, but now even 4,000 yarsa pieces do not make 1kg.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_daa088be0c5fa992dc5bba26be84e9ee89f66b161cdc9134cb7113992f71ddf2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="2024083018080_daa088be0c5fa992dc5bba26be84e9ee89f66b161cdc9134cb7113992f71ddf2" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1043" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>A local woman prepares cooking fuel at 4,500m in Upper Dolpo.</figcaption> </figure>  “Yarsa has been a huge source of income, but its ecological, economic, and social impacts are far-reaching,” says Suraj Upadhaya, of the School of Agriculture, Communities and the Environment at Kentucky State University.&nbsp; There is also a tax of Rs31,000 for every kg of yarsa, which pickers often avoid paying. Shey Phoksundo National Park also collects a Rs500 yarsa fee from every resident and Rs2,000 from those outside, making it easy to track the number of harvesters. Last year, Rs85,000 was collected in fees, whereas this year the figure jumped to Rs10.86 million, hinting at enormous overharvesting. Trampling is also another cause of low harvests, researchers say, increased human activity on the slopes means the top soil is compacted, preventing the next cycle of growth.&nbsp; All this means that the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19382">poorest Nepalis </a>are losing an extra source of income that was allowing them to survive.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_df7b151ecb439ead56150934aba4b65786b946d46383f4ba542a61008ac6984e.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="2024083018080_df7b151ecb439ead56150934aba4b65786b946d46383f4ba542a61008ac6984e" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> <figcaption>Harvesters look for yarsa in steep slopes of Upper Dolpo.</figcaption> </figure>  Warns Warden Shrestha: “This is going to unleash an economic crisis in the region, families will not have the money to buy food leading to starvation.” &nbsp; The desperation is already apparent in the rise in crime. Robbers loot pickers on their way down from the mountains, stealing their yarsa or money, or both. There are also territorial disputes between locals and pickers from outside. In 2009, seven people were killed in Manang in a fight.&nbsp; Overharvesting of yarsa also impacts on many other species in the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596">Shey Phoksundo National Park’s fragile high altitude ecosystem</a> where plants take a lot longer to grow. The endangered animals here like the snow leopard, Tibetan wolf, and blue sheep are also affected by the human impact on their food chain, as well as poaching. &nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_4a3c0997036eec9fee4cf561f2afdbf8a42a80996d3c7f42b1a92847ce065dda.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="2024083018080_4a3c0997036eec9fee4cf561f2afdbf8a42a80996d3c7f42b1a92847ce065dda" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  “We have not been able to manage this systematically,” admits Shrestha, adding that despite funding from the government, royalties, and tariff collection from locals, many of the security posts lack staff to enforce regulation. “Dolpo used to be a self-sustaining barter economy, but now everything has to be bought,” says Upadhaya whose research suggests that alternative crops like olives can provide a good source of income in the region. Yarsa’s instant reward, however, means local people cannot wait for returns from such long-term investment.&nbsp; Worryingly, much of the income generated from yarsa hasn’t been diverted to productive sectors either. Most of the locals have spent their money on renovating their houses and on consumer items. &nbsp; As Nepal’s road network expands and snakes up through Dolpo, the remotest corners of the Himalaya are being connected. This <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo">can open up new opportunities </a>including the region’s potential for religious and eco-tourism that can provide an alternative livelihood for yarsa pickers. <h2>Easy pickings</h2>  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2024083018080_bebf6aaf638cf8ffeed7ac09ae1a3eb93ff4a4f206e39e291c4654d73711ea3c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="2024083018080_bebf6aaf638cf8ffeed7ac09ae1a3eb93ff4a4f206e39e291c4654d73711ea3c" data-rendition-name="original" width="1500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush NT"> </figure>  Pratap Rokaya, 48, is a social studies teacher at Shree Shelri Drugdra School in Saldang in Upper Dolpo, and like his students, started collecting the fungus when he was 17. Despite having a government job, Rokaya says he needs the additional income.&nbsp; Such is the economic significance of yarsa that schools in the region are shut during the harvest season, allowing children to tag along with their parents so that they can also help pick with their keen eye-sight and nimble fingers. &nbsp; “Even though such long breaks are not good for students, their guardians are left with no choice,” Rokaya adds. “We are heavily dependent on yarsa because traditional farming is not enough to support families.”&nbsp; Dhanbir Bista is in Grade 5 but has not been to school for more than a month because he is up here scouring the steep slope on his hands and knees. “I feel bad for leaving school but I have to come here to support my father,” he tells us. Dhanbir’s father, Bhim Bahadur, adds, “It’s very risky to bring young ones, especially after I heard that people from my own village have died. But we need the extra pair of hands.”&nbsp;

The human cost of Nepal’s yarsa gold rush

I was born in the little village of Chepka on the old trading trail in Dolpo. Even since I was a boy, I used to see the yaks and mules go up and down the path, and an increasing number of foreign trekkers and their porters. I always yearned to see the world beyond the narrow valley to a wider horizon. We started the Gateway Inn located at the night stop point between Jufal airfield and Phoksundo, and business was getting better until the pandemic.&nbsp; I went to Austria to work for two summers at the Gesäuse National Park, and that augmented my income plus gave me a lot of exposure into ecotourism. Trekking traffic is picking up again in Dolpo, so I do not need to go to Europe anymore. Tourist footfall would increase if Dolpo was taken off the restricted area list. Because of this rule, foreign trekkers have to pay $500 per day for a 10-day trek plus $50 for every extra day to the Department of Immigration. That is in addition to the daily $150 for the trek itself, the Rs3,000 Shey Phoksundo National Park fee and the higher air fares for foreigners from Kathmandu to Jufal via Nepalganj. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/time-catching-up-with-timeless-dolpo">Time catching up with timeless Dolpo</a>, Alton C. Byers All this adds up to make Dolpo more expensive than the Everest or Annapurna trails, and only the most adventurous (or well to do) come to Dolpo. Even reducing the Dolpo restricted area fee by half could double the meagre 600 trekkers who visit the national park at present every year. I learnt a lot while in Austria. For example, the signage along the hiking trails are very well laid out so it is impossible to get lost. There is a lot of information along the paths about the animal and plant life, and to identify surrounding peaks and landmarks. There is an effort to minimise the impact of tourism. The Austrians also do not build roads unnecessarily so as to preserve their wilderness. And that is something we could emulate here in Dolpo, where there is a road-building spree going on. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo">New High Way to Dolpo is not good news for trekkers</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1386" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo road network NT"> </figure>  Till recently, Dolpo and Humla were the only two districts in Nepal without motorable roads. Interestingly, Dolpo is better connected to China at the moment than to the rest of Nepal. Dolpo is located on the trans-Himalayan plateau, and is Nepal’s biggest district by area, but has a population of only 45,000. That might change with the Bheri Corridor which has already reached the district capital of Dunai. One can now travel from Surkhet to Tallo Bazar in 12 hours, cross the footbridge over the Bheri, and transfer to another jeep up to Dunai in 6 hours over very rough roads. Despite this being a national pride project, progress is rather slow. Still, for locals, this gives an alternative to the expensive and irregular flights from Jufal to Nepalganj. From Dunai, the Bheri highway is supposed to go on to the Chinese border at Marim La via Dho Tarap and Tinje. Some sections already have motorcycles plying on them, while the already built stretch from Dunai to Laisikap got washed away by floods a few years ago. It used to take a whole day for locals and two days for trekkers to walk from Saldang to Dho crossing the Chyala La and Jyanta La at over 5,300m. On a motorcycle it now takes just two hours. Once the track from Kagbeni via Charkha Bhot is opened, it will be easier to travel to Upper Dolpo via Mustang than up the Bheri highway from Surkhet. Last year, a tractor already climbed up from the Kali Gandaki to Dho, and there are dozers already at work. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/dazzling-dolpo">Dazzling Dolpo</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama Post-Covid and before international tourism resumed, the trail from Dunai to Phoksundo was filled with Nepali vloggers and TikTok trekkers. This propped up the local economy since the Nepalis tended to spend more money in the villages than foreign trekking groups. If only they did not bring along their loud music, everything would be fine.&nbsp; The view is divided about whether roads are good or bad for Dolpo. They have made it easier and cheaper for the sick to be taken to city hospitals for treatment, or for the annual winter migration south. However, there are worries about the theft of religious objects, as well as the destruction of chorten and mani walls by bulldozers. The road network will inevitably spread in Dolpo in the coming years, so we might as well be prepared to minimise its impact, especially on tourism. The roads more or less follow the former trekking routes, which themselves were once the yak trails used by traders, as depicted in Eric Valley’s documentary Caravan in the 1980s. All these roads also make it less tenable to justify the high restricted area fees. The Shey Phoksundo Rural Municipality is trying to make sure that a road is not built up the Suligad River, so that the lake, the Bon Po monastery in Pungmo and the southern part of the national park will only be for wilderness hiking. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/bon-voyage">Bon voyage</a>, Sonam Choekyi Lama Norbu Lama is an ecotourism operator in Dolpo and runs the Gateway Inn in Chekpa. <a href="mailto:norbulama125@gmail.com" target="_blank">norbulama125@gmail.com</a> Facebook: Norbu O Positive

The road less travelled in Dolpo

In 1973, the writer Peter Matthiessen spent two months trekking in this remote trans-Himalayan region of western Nepal with wildlife biologist George Schaller. The trip was made legendary by his 1976 book, The Snow Leopard.&nbsp; In it, he documented his pursuit of Zen Buddhism at a time of personal loss, Schaller’s pursuit of blue sheep and snow leopards to justify setting up a new wildlife reserve, and a timeless land that hadn’t changed much in 800 years.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_5539fce28afa4b839fe493c238965417b8e26bb8447e4ab337c35c8c8e88f0c7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20231229111220_5539fce28afa4b839fe493c238965417b8e26bb8447e4ab337c35c8c8e88f0c7" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 1/2"> <figcaption>(Left) Ringmo village in 1993. The traditional, flat-roofed, rammed earth houses had changed little in the preceding 800 years when this photograph was taken. (Right) Ringmo village on 30 May 2023. Remarkably, little change has occurred in the interim with the exception of a few more traditional houses. Road access in the very near future will assuredly bring with it new building materials (i.e., concrete), architectural styles, and new hotels to take advantage of the beauty of the nearby Phoksundo Lake. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_afa4e31e9826f7a974890dbd50b4a6f8b61f2c120b4fb3d32ac1c1eb67e99567.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20231229111220_afa4e31e9826f7a974890dbd50b4a6f8b61f2c120b4fb3d32ac1c1eb67e99567" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 3/4"> <figcaption>(Left) Chorten near Phoksundo lake in 1971. (Right) The same chorten near Phoksundo lake on 30 May 2023 showing practically no major changes having had occurred, with the exception of a new paint job, in the interim. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111228_2f582bd6366a0261a662704958b042b13a7f3be7e31dce5b9128bf7ba16aafed.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="20231229111228_2f582bd6366a0261a662704958b042b13a7f3be7e31dce5b9128bf7ba16aafed" data-rendition-name="original" width="1400" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 5/6"> <figcaption>(Left) Bridge near Ringmo village in 1971. (Right) The same bridge near Ringmo village on 30 May 2023, some 52 years later. Such traditional wooden bridges have been replaced with steel throughout much of the rest of Nepal. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  There were no tourist lodges, the trails were primitive and exposed, food was scarce, and given their late November start the weather was unpredictable and uncertain.&nbsp; Shey Phoksundo National Park was established 11 years after Matthiessen's trek. But even though Dolpo had been ‘discovered’ by adventure tourists much earlier, it has still remained comparatively inaccessible and mysterious because of its remoteness, and expense. Only 600 tourists visited in 2022.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111224_b01f7a3719daf2834c6b4d31799911df35d3ce7b8128816c9e449b488850685d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20231229111224_b01f7a3719daf2834c6b4d31799911df35d3ce7b8128816c9e449b488850685d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 7/8"> <figcaption>(Left) Bon Gompa near Ringmo and Phoksundo lake in 1993. (Right) Bon Gompa on 30 May 2023, showing virtually no change from the 1993 image with the exception of several structures having been painted in red. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111216_1665201aeb35844444707e95b4a02f1e627baf182699275db75ceeaf382a4e02.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20231229111216_1665201aeb35844444707e95b4a02f1e627baf182699275db75ceeaf382a4e02" data-rendition-name="original" width="2900" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 9/10"> <figcaption>(Left) Bon Gompa in 1993. The purple colour on the distant hillslopes and deep blue colour of the lake are most likely the result of colour saturation of the original slide film, as well as age. (Right) Several new buildings had since been constructed at the Bon Gompa when this photograph was taken on 30 May 2023 that partially obscure the foreground. The village of Ringmo, to the left in the background, appears to be more densely tree covered than it was 40 years ago. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_1a162841d53fd30941204eb7a28a6cf84ac78b0e8769d6f95aa8bbed3197f9f4.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="20231229111220_1a162841d53fd30941204eb7a28a6cf84ac78b0e8769d6f95aa8bbed3197f9f4" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1400" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 11/12"> <figcaption>(Left) Four young lamas walk along a trail at the Bon Gompa in 1993. (Right) Photograph taken on 30 May 2023 of new structures built in the interim show parts of the 1993 view partially obscured. All four of the young lamas are now senior lamas in Kathmandu. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  &nbsp;This, however, is about to change. Mustang and Dolpo are increasingly being connected by roads, and every major village within Shey Phoksundo National Park will soon be linked Between May-July 2023 my wife Elizabeth and I spent 40 days trekking in upper Dolpo, photographing wild flowers for the Godavari Botanical Gardens (including the first photograph of the rare Primula ramzanae ever taken), making plaster casts of snow leopard pugmarks for the Natural History Museum, and noting the impact of yarsagumba harvesters upon the fragile, high-altitude landscapes.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_adcf95099774d11f754f7f5a9bf62138fa42885a26a61e9fbc43e1e096512449.jpg" data-media-id="editor_6" data-image-id="20231229111220_adcf95099774d11f754f7f5a9bf62138fa42885a26a61e9fbc43e1e096512449" data-rendition-name="original" width="2000" height="1400" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 13/14"> <figcaption>(Left) Porter on the trail above Phoksundo lake in 1971. (Right) Jitendra Rai above Phoksundo lake on 1 June 2023. The lookout point with green roof in the background is the only real change that has occurred since Reinhard’s photo was taken in 1971. The lakeshore region in the background, however, will most likely be converted to a tourist hub with the coming of the new road, replacing traditional architecture with new homes and hotels made of cement, hotel-based as opposed to adventure tourists, automobiles, buses, and other modern amenities. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_ac2d5bbf8d482f56b547c6ca9ab4332256888bf2149326580fec508561565a5d.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20231229111220_ac2d5bbf8d482f56b547c6ca9ab4332256888bf2149326580fec508561565a5d" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 15/16"> <figcaption>(Left) Porters on the trail above Phoksundo lake in 1993. (Right) Trail above Phoksundo lake on 1 June 2023. Little appears to have changed in the landscape since 1993, although the dangerous and exposed trails described by Matthissien in 1976 (some of which he crawled over on all fours) have since been improved. Yaks and mules, however, routinely fall to their deaths at certain narrow points. This section from Ringmo, crossing the 6,000m+ pass to Shey Gompa, might remain as a trekking trail. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_db0d239e5c262395b269309171dade512de245f9b336de5076e838d62d24832f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20231229111220_db0d239e5c262395b269309171dade512de245f9b336de5076e838d62d24832f" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 17/18"> <figcaption>(Left) View to the north-east above Phoksundo lake in 1993. The extremely deep blue of the lake may be a result of colour saturation of the original slide film, and age. (Right) The same view photographed on 1 June 2023, with little evident change having occurred in the interim. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  We also replicated 16 photographs of the villages and landscapes taken by noted anthropologist Johan Reinhard in 1971 and 1993 to assess the changes that had occurred. Dolpo is still described as a roadless region by trekking agencies, available literature and websites. But new roads are planned and/or under construction from the Chinese border to Chakra Bhot, across to Saldang, down to Dho Tarap, and on out to Jomsom.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6.jpg" data-media-id="editor_9" data-image-id="20231229091220_e3a6a6c428b25526f4f2831d77ad7a132901df29f1eafd70dc52a526374756d6" data-rendition-name="original" width="1386" height="800" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo road network NT"> </figure>  Contoured ‘mountain bike’ trails have been excavated by local communities from village to village to help bulldozers, which will link the remotest settlements within a few years. The Shey Gompa monastery featured in Matthiessen’s book will be linked as will Phoksundo Lake.&nbsp; Our original trek route had to be drastically revised as a result, as we played ‘dodge the new road’ to stay on traditional trade and trekking trails in upper Dolpo.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111216_1ec923e67778e2f3cdf52e5597e4d9ea3da13394a73026523331b52c2f7a852f.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20231229111216_1ec923e67778e2f3cdf52e5597e4d9ea3da13394a73026523331b52c2f7a852f" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 19/20"> <figcaption>(Left) Trekker campsite near Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right) The same campsite on 10 June 2023. With the exception of a new stupa and several buildings in the floodplain to the right, very little is different from the image above taken 40 years ago. This, however, will change in the very near future when roads connect Shey with the outside world. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_c236bd4523441f367fa965eddfb8ff70fa4f5bdaabdb789ccefc757a0c162a0c.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20231229111220_c236bd4523441f367fa965eddfb8ff70fa4f5bdaabdb789ccefc757a0c162a0c" data-rendition-name="original" width="3000" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 21/22"> <figcaption>(Left) Scene from above Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right) The same scene on 10 June 2023. Only the red structure in the foreground, with its rectangular roof bordered with willow and juniper fuelwood, is new. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_fad02525d46b34135fb839504c5663c1a7d0ae57805e3fabc7293d40c9079914.jpg" data-media-id="editor_12" data-image-id="20231229111220_fad02525d46b34135fb839504c5663c1a7d0ae57805e3fabc7293d40c9079914" data-rendition-name="original" width="2900" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 23/24"> <figcaption>(Left) Shey Gompa in 1993. (Right)  Shey Gompa on 10 June 2023, showing remarkably little change over the past 40 years. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / ALTON C. BYERS (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>  The repeat photographs thus took on an entirely new and unexpected meaning. The photographs actually show how little change appears to have occurred in the villages, monasteries, and landscapes that we replicated.&nbsp; But with the coming of roads, we can expect unprecedented changes within the next few years, such as new cement hotels, lodges, houses, and other infrastructure. Roads can bring positive (improved access to health care) as well as negative impacts (increased landslides, poaching). We left with the hope that the benefits will outweigh the negative, and that the magic and mystery of Dolpo will continue to prevail in perpetuity. &nbsp;&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_45fdaa2f4fe92fe1c41b265d374a0259e5a81c19f1bdd160455b2e2338400920.jpg" data-media-id="editor_13" data-image-id="20231229111220_45fdaa2f4fe92fe1c41b265d374a0259e5a81c19f1bdd160455b2e2338400920" data-rendition-name="original" width="1700" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 25/26"> <figcaption>(Left) Tsakang Gompa in 1993. This meditative center near Shey Gompa was featured in writer Peter Matthiessen’s 1976 book The Snow Leopard. (Right) Tsakang Gompa on 11 June 2023 showing that little evident change had occurred in the interim period. Photos: JOHAN REINHARD (LEFT) / LAKPA NORBU SHERPA (RIGHT)</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229111220_d1df43d7caec38690fa4e0dde53cb109e42600b5063b5e8c6e1b2964d6227ae3.jpg" data-media-id="editor_14" data-image-id="20231229111220_d1df43d7caec38690fa4e0dde53cb109e42600b5063b5e8c6e1b2964d6227ae3" data-rendition-name="original" width="2800" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo collage images NT 27/28"> <figcaption>(Left) Mother and daughter lodge owners in Yak Kharka identifying photographs of local people taken in 1971 and 1993 by anthropologist Dr Johan Reinhard. (Right) Ladies near Amchii Hospital identifying photographs of their friends taken in 1971 and 1993. Naturalist and mountaineer Lakpa Norbu Sherpa of Family Alpine Trekking and Mountaineering is to the left is holding the photographs. Photos: ALTON C. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>   <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20231229101224_ff6bcc5bb843c6eea3f1f30ae5fbe6e92a5ad8837e92d8003f03e1c9a2a73e17.jpg" data-media-id="editor_15" data-image-id="20231229101224_ff6bcc5bb843c6eea3f1f30ae5fbe6e92a5ad8837e92d8003f03e1c9a2a73e17" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="Dolpo repeat photographs NT 29"> <figcaption>Elizabeth Byers (left) and the Head Lama of the Bon Gompa near Ringmo identify changes in landscapes and monastery structures from photographs taken in 1971 and 1993. Photo: ALTON C. BYERS</figcaption> </figure>  The historic and recent repeat photographs should provide a solid baseline for young Nepali scholars to conduct future studies on the impact of roads in Dolpo, one of the last of the remote, hidden, and mysterious treasures of Nepal and the world. Alton C. Byers, PhD is a Senior Research Associate and Faculty at the Institute for Arctic and Alpine Research (INSTAAR), University of Colorado at Boulder.

Time catching up with timeless Dolpo

Two Chilean musicians arrived in Nepal by chance just before the pandemic, but now they stay here by choice exploring the country’s vast musical diversity.&nbsp; Thomas Carrasco Gubernatis and Moa Edmunds Guevera have found uncanny similarities between the traditional music of their native Andes and the Himalaya. They are now collaborating on the music of Pungmo, a remote Nepali village five days away by plane, bus, and foot from Kathmandu. Tomas and Moa grew up listening to South American folk music, and then studied Western Classical music in Chile. But Tomas wanted to explore other kinds of music which took him first to Bulgaria and Turkey where he learnt local wind instruments, and then to Spain where he mastered Japanese flute. Next, he wanted to go to India to learn 'raga music'. The two who were already playing as a duo, performing in concerts and recording songs landed in India in 2019. Tomas started learning the flute at Hariprasad Chaurasiya's gurukul in Mumbai, and Moa was soaking in different kinds of music in the region. They went to Banaras to attend the Dhrupad Mela, found that they had to leave the country for some time due to visa regulations, and crossed the nearest border into Nepal.&nbsp; In a few weeks Nepal shut down due to Covid, and the duo has been stuck here ever since. In Kathmandu, they started teaching music at Kathmandu Jazz conservatory and working with folk musician Jhuma Limbu on music based on Limbu mundhum. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/the-last-of-the-kusunda">The last of the Kusunda</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <div class="embed-block"><div style="max-width: 765px;"><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 102px; position: relative;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fpodcasters.spotify.com%2Fpod%2Fshow%2Fraithane-bhakha%2Fepisodes%2FKhunglu---Songs-from-Pungmo--Dolpa-e25n0vq&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no"></iframe></div></div></div> They also happened to meet Nepali-French videographer Eric Chandra Shrestha who told them about music from one of the &nbsp;remotest corners of Nepal which was on the verge of disappearing. Back in the 1980s, Eric's mother Marina had come to Nepal from France to visit Dolpo. Because foreigners were not allowed to visit the area back then, she disguised herself as a local and managed to reach Pungmo. There she had taken a photo of a lama. “When the lama passed away, the villagers had no photograph of him. Many years later, Semduk Lama from the village happened to connect with my mother. The photograph came up in conversation. My mother shared the photograph, and a link with Dolpo was established anew,” explains Eric. Eric has always been interested in music, with a background in sound engineering video projects. Semduk Lama spoke to Eric of the rare songs in his village and Eric shared the story with Tomas and Moa. This got them excited to go to Dolpo to learn the songs. Read: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/in-nepal-east-meets-west-musically">In Nepal, East meets West musically</a>, Shrijan Pandey  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230617020644_8d9c0659b7ec17d3d8e16ef85e7ac089e2f4d391521ff7ce65bf2d0c3db74541.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="20230617020644_8d9c0659b7ec17d3d8e16ef85e7ac089e2f4d391521ff7ce65bf2d0c3db74541" data-rendition-name="original" width="2880" height="1920" loading="lazy" alt="Bridging the Andes and Himalaya with music NT"> </figure>  “Going to Dolpo is very expensive for foreigners. We have to pay special permit fees, and the plane fare is almost triple,” says Moa. So Tomas, Moa and Eric took the bus to Nepalganj which was a 24-hour ride. From there they flew to Jufal airport, and then walked two days to reach Pungmo. Eric, who has been trekking in Nepal since he was a child, was used to walking, but the Chileans were not. “It took us two days of walking five hours each. The locals complete the journey in a day. I had only heard about places which can only be reached on foot. It was very strange to experience it myself,” says Tomas. Moa on the other hand had lived all his life near the sea. At the beginning, it was difficult for them to work. Everything needed double translation. The villagers spoke in local language, someone translated that to Eric in Nepali, and Eric translated it in English to the Chileans. Moreover, they had reached the village just before winter set in, which meant that the villagers were out working in the fields for 10 hours a day, gathering supplies for the winter. Understandably, they were too tired to sing for the foreigners in the evening. But slowly the villagers opened up. They would sing a song in the evening, and the next day Tomas would convert it to musical notation, and Tomas and Moa learnt the melody. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/nepali-folk-songs-move-beyond-love-and-loss?fb_comment_id=2378771035542751_4054402654646239">Nepali folk songs move beyond love and loss</a>, Reeti K.C. <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FwcbvFw9u10A&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> “The next day we played the song back to them on our instruments. That pleased them and they taught us more songs,” recalls Tomas. “On the last day we had a party and sang and played with each other. We hastily constructed a make-shift studio and recorded some songs. Other villagers came, lamas from other villages came, and people danced all night.” Away from home, the music of Pungmo reminded the Chileans of South American music – Tomas compared it to the music of the Andes and Moa to the music of his father's native Easter Island.&nbsp; “Although you can find similarities in all kinds of music, the way some notes and melodies were used reminded me of South American music,” says Tomas. According to Semduk Lama, a Pungmo resident and music conservationist, people from upper Dolpo used to spend the winter in the village because despite being at a high altitude, it is not as cold as upper Dolpo. “But nowadays people from the upper regions spend the winter further down in the hills or Tarai, so Pungmo has lost footfalls. We continue to stay at Pungmo in the winter,” he adds. Welcome to the first, second and third months of the spring season When livestock give birth We get to have milk and yoghurt And it is so pleasant and enjoyable Good wishes to the spring season Welcome to the first, second and third months of monsoon When flowers bloom on the hills and forests And we don't need to pick flowers to offer to gods It is so pleasant and enjoyable Good wishes to monsoon season Welcome to the first, second, and third months of autumn season When the crop in the fields is ready to harvest Then we have plenty of grains and do not need to buy It is so nice to eat Good wishes to autumn season Welcome to the first, second and third months of winter season When the water in rivers freezes over And we do not need bridges, it is so easy to walk Good wishes to winter season Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/eastern-melodies-in-kathmandu/" target="_blank">Eastern melodies in Kathmandu</a>, Sewa Bhattarai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230617020644_7622081294e1fd3c5fd04a2e5445499f7deb3bce23d592add798ba0666c949b7.jpg" data-media-id="editor_7" data-image-id="20230617020644_7622081294e1fd3c5fd04a2e5445499f7deb3bce23d592add798ba0666c949b7" data-rendition-name="original" width="4096" height="2160" loading="lazy" alt="Bridging the Andes and Himalaya with music NT"> </figure>  The very fact that Pungmo was more isolated than other villages of Dolpo is probably why it has been able to hold on to more of its heritage. Says Semduk Lama: “When I was young, we did not have schools. When night fell we lit bonfires and sang and danced around them all night.” Even then, residents say that the songs sung here have now become scarce across Dolpa. The genre called Khunglu, which is sung sitting down, is considered the oldest. The community has other genres called Sunlu and Dhellu which are also sung sitting down, while the dancing music called Sharbo is considered newer. Another Khunglu song that the group sang at Echoes in the Valley also reflects their lifestyle. From the door to the roof The house is filled with grain We must make chhyang (an alcoholic drink) from this grain Add a little bit of water too "But you shouldn't make it too watery!" Pemba Tashi laughs as he recounts another stanza. Do not add too much water to the chyang &nbsp;It must be strong The song contains the indigenous community's practice of brewing its own alcohol, and also discusses its importance in the community. “Chyyang is not so popular these days. But in the past, there was nothing as delicious as chhyang,” says Pasang Nima. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/on-a-high-note/" target="_blank">Tibetan music in Nepal’s sacred valley</a>, Sewa Bhattarai <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 0; position: relative; padding-bottom: 56.25%;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.youtube.com%2Fembed%2FthSiV8yIIxM&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen scrolling="no" allow="accelerometer *; clipboard-write *; encrypted-media *; gyroscope *; picture-in-picture *; web-share *;"></iframe></div></div></div> Chhyang is so delicious If only everything tasted like chhyang In Dolpa, chhyang is consumed not just after harvest and during celebrations, but also given to nursing mothers and to old people. Sometimes, old people find it hard to fall asleep If you sip a little chhyang, sleep will come easy Pungmo has preserved not just its music, but also an archaic lifestyle which wasn't lost on the trio. Coupled with the fact that the village is so isolated, is relatively outside the capitalistic system, and mostly runs on barter system, Pungmo presented a world that is inaccessible to most people today. “There are only about 40 houses, and you can walk from the rooftop of one house to the other. All the villagers are related too. Living like a big family is very beautiful. Where we are from, in a big city, it is not possible,” says Tomas. In the past, music was a part of the community and it had many functions – it was a way for them to pass on the knowledge to youngsters. Songs of the Chho-Pungmo community teach life skills, whether it is about just greeting people, living according to different seasons or making chhyang. “There we found a very original way of making music,” says Tomas Carrasco. “Back in the day, in many communities, there was no professional singer. Normal people created and performed music alongside their daily work. In such communities, music is not necessarily called art. Music comes under other crafts like making clothes or jewelry." Adds Moa Edmunds: “Learning folk music does not mean just learning the melody or the lyrics. It also means learning about the community and the function that music has in the community.” Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/review/ghatu-dance-of-lamjung/">Ghatu dance of Lamjung</a>, Sewa Bhattarai  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20230617020644_609dbd5404e014179d62017277418f8a00598c5f033e2ccaef13789c239c5373.jpg" data-media-id="editor_11" data-image-id="20230617020644_609dbd5404e014179d62017277418f8a00598c5f033e2ccaef13789c239c5373" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1536" loading="lazy" alt="Bridging the Andes and Himalaya with music NT"> <figcaption>Photo: SEWA BHATTARAI</figcaption> </figure>  Another example is their song about Tamyen. The long instrument with five strings is the only instrument used in Pungmo. The song not just praises the instrument but also gives detailed instructions to make it. You need to gather many things to make this instrument Bring wood of the male Bhojpatra tree to make the head Bring a grass called Langma to make the screws Bring goat intestines (of a particular goat) to make the strings Tomas and Moa, in their effort to help promote the music, accompanied the singers from Dolpo at the 2023 edition of Echoes in the Valley in Kathmandu. Despite that, they do not call themselves 'folk musicians,' instead choosing to identify their music as a fusion of various genres to create their own style. “The theories behind classical music all come from folk music. Some people have a special affinity with music, they create music without any theories. It happens almost intuitively,” says Tomas as he explains his passion for everything folk. All three of them hope to work more with musicians from Pungmo. “I don't particularly think that culture needs to be preserved as it is. Culture is constantly evolving, and if it is static it might lead to conservatism. And yet, I think the past should not be forgotten, and it is important to document it for future generations," says Eric, for whom this has been a personal journey as well because of the connection to his mother.&nbsp; Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/fire-in-the-belly-2/" target="_blank">Still dancing and singing for Nepal revolution,</a> Sewa Bhattarai <div class="embed-block"><div><div style="left: 0; width: 100%; height: 400px; position: relative;"><iframe src="//cdn.iframe.ly/api/iframe?url=https%3A%2F%2Fsoundcloud.com%2Feric-chandra-870117780%2Fsonam-drolma&key=87ca3314a9fa775b5c3a7726100694b0" style="top: 0; left: 0; width: 100%; height: 100%; position: absolute; border: 0;" allowfullscreen></iframe></div></div></div> "Many people remembered my mother passing through the village so many years ago. The singers were very young, but they remembered her. I felt like I found a special connection with the village,” he adds. But today, songs have been reduced to just entertainment. Youngsters studying in Kathmandu and other cities are not interested in traditional music. Exposed to the outside world, they want to sing Nepali, Hindi, and English songs which are livelier and instrument heavy, says Pasang Lama. He adds: “People in other villages of Dolpo do not know these songs, and do not wish to learn either.” The small group is trying to conserve what they have left. Semduk has made a documentary of some old songs which are now forgotten. Since then, some of the elderly women who sang the songs have passed away.&nbsp; Meanwhile, the Chileans plan to stay in Nepal for at least the next two years, teaching and working on folk music. “We landed up in Nepal accidentally, but now we are staying here by choice,” says Tomas.” And do they miss home? “If I have my guitar and I can play, then it doesn’t matter which corner of the world I am in,” says Moa. Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/multimedia/amrit-gurung-unplugged">Amrit Gurung, unplugged</a>, Ashish Dhakal Sewa Bhattarai is a freelance journalist. Her series, On The Margins, will focus on folk music, folklore, and mythology of Nepal's marginalised communities.

Sewa Bhattarai

Bridging the Andes and Himalaya with music

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203b79c7e80680e0b2821jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="695"/><figcaption>Tsering Sumjok Gurung with German plastic surgeon André Borsche (left) and Peter Hinze (right). Borsche had treated her childhood injury at the Sushma Koirala Memorial Hospital in Kathmandu. All photos courtesy: PETER HINZE</figcaption></figure>Last November, in the waiting room of a hospital in Bad Kreuznach in Germany, Tsering Sumjok Gurung caught glimpse of a familiar face.The tall man with graying hair and moustache was wearing a white coat over a yellow jumper. He was none other than plastic surgeon André Borsche who had treated her horrific childhood burn injury at the <a href="https://www.skmt.org.np">Sushma Koirala Memorial</a> Hospital in Kathmandu ten years previously.“It was an emotional reunion for both of us,” Tsering, now 23, remembers. “He was very friendly and wanted to see how my injuries had healed.”Tsering was 18 months old that summer when her family made the annual migration up to high pasture to graze their yaks. One day, while her mother was tending the livestock, Tsering fell off her crib right into the fireplace. She was badly burnt on her back, and right arm.Read also: <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/A-burning-desire-to-help,881">A burning desire to help</a>, Kunda Dixit<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203ba9c7e80680e0b2822jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="308" height="462">There were no doctors in her village of Bhijer, so she was treated for the next four years by the local <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/I-am-an-amchi,3349" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">amchi healer</a>. This kept her alive, but the skin on her right arm was fused with the torso. All her childhood, Tsering was carried around in a doko bamboo basket.“Burns are common in <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo/" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer">Dolpo</a> because home life revolves around the kitchen fire,” says Tsering. “I was lucky.”Despite being painful to move around, Tsering started going to school in Bhijer and excelled in studies. In Grade 2, a group of wealthy American and Swiss trekkers visited the school that they had supported. They noticed Tsering, examined her injuries, and helped bring her to Kathmandu for school and treatment. Over the years, the two families have also funded a hospital and a cheese factory in the village.Tsering used to watch her classmates in Kathmandu run and play, or dance in school programs, but could not participate because of her injury. She was eventually admitted to the Sushma Koirala Hospital, which is supported by INTERPLAST-Germany, where André Borsche and his team performed five major operations with reconstructive surgery. Every week, she had to make a painful bus ride from her dorm in Boudha to the hospital in Sankhu for physiotherapy and follow-ups.She missed many classes, but she made up for it by reading books which inspired her to become a doctor, so she could serve her community in Dolpo. Not able to afford higher education, in 2017 she started working as a hostel warden at a school in Chobar.That is when she met German journalist Peter Hinze who was researching his first book on <a href="https://www.amazon.com/The-Great-Himalaya-Trail/dp/3957281377" target="_blank" rel="noopener noreferrer" data-saferedirecturl="https://www.google.com/url?q=https://www.amazon.com/The-Great-Himalaya-Trail/dp/3957281377&amp;source=gmail&amp;ust=1641892465582000&amp;usg=AOvVaw3DjWYFudXKEdEQ0H4UlQmW">The Great Himalayan Trail, </a>and Tsering later travelled with him to Upper Dolpo to make a film with herself as the lead character.Tsering was back in Bhijer for the first time in ten years, and her family and neighbours were surprised how much she had grown and changed. Her injuries were not visible anymore, and no one could believe that a little girl who had such terrible injuries would be so transformed.Read also: <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18771#.Ydv72C8w3u0">Lending a hand</a>, Nepali Times“I met the right people who helped me get treatment otherwise my life would have been different,” Tsering says. “Even now, there are many children in my neighbouring villages who are not as fortunate.”The film project was cancelled because of the pandemic, but Hinze converted the research into the book 100000 Schritte zum Glück about Dolpo, and invited Tsering to Germany for the unveiling in November. The book made it to number 4 on Amazon's best seller list in Germany.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203bd9c7e80680e0b2823jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="169" height="242">And he had a surprise in store – a meeting with the surgeon who had treated her in Kathmandu all those years ago. It was an emotional and joyful reunion.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203bf9c7e80680e0b2824jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="641"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>“This was one of the best days in my 26-year career, when I could see the wonderful result of our charity work,” said André Borsche.Tsering was equally happy: “I made it from my family stone hut in Bhijer to the hospital in Germany to meet the surgeon who changed my life.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-acid-attack-survivors-find-a-saviour/">Nepal’s acid attack survivors find a saviour</a>, Sabina Devkota<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/2022111410110/637203c19c7e80680e0b2825jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="750" height="1000">In the hospital, Borsche examined her burn scars and was satisfied with how well her back had healed. He suggested one more operation, but Tsering refused any more treatment.“I am over medical procedures for now,” Tsering told Nepali Times on her return from Germany. “After all those surgeries, I am put off by the sight of blood. I don’t want to think about the pain afterwards. For now I think I am ok.”These days, when Tsering is not busy with her full-time work at the Chobar school, she helps Hinze with Project Dolpo, a private initiative to help those who need assistance in her home district. She gets frequent calls from families in Dolpo who are in distress.Says Hinze: “I think this is a motivating story about a girl who never gave up, and who trusted herself. It shows how when help gets to the right people, the underprivileged and the almost forgotten, it can make a big difference to their lives.”This past week in Kathmandu, Tsering has been busy taking a seven-year-old boy from Dolpo who was also badly burnt with boiling water, and was brought to Kathmandu for treatment. Tsering has been taking the patient to the burns hospital in Kirtipur for medical attention.“It happened to me, and now to this boy. These accidents occur so frequently and Upper Dolpo just does not have the facilities to treat burn injuries,” says Tsering.For now, she wants to complete her education and ultimately return to Dolpo: “I feel it is my responsibility to give back to my community. The only way my village is going to develop is when young people like me get educated, and head back to help others like us. There is so much to do.”Read also: <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-prolonged-trauma-of-acid-attack-survivors/">The prolonged trauma of acid attack survivors</a>, Laxmi Basnet

Sahina Shrestha

Tsering Sumjok is all right

<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f2c9c7e80680e0af44fjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1802"/><figcaption>Manang. Photo: NABIN LAMICHHANE.</figcaption></figure>Kathmandu Valley and the surrounding areas experienced rains from Tuesday night with moderate snowfall in Chandragiri and Pulchoki in the outskirts.Heavier snow has blanketed the mountainous districts of Dadeldhura, Doti, Baitadi, Bajhang and Darchula, as well as trans-himalayan Dolpo, Manang and Mustang, while vehicular movements in different sections of the Tribhuvan, Bhimdatta and Jayaprithvi highways have been obstructed by snowfall.The Department of Meteorology and Hydrology has predicted rain into Wednesday morning.<figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f309c7e80680e0af450jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1600"><figcaption>Myagdi. Photo: SONTOSH GAUTAM.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f339c7e80680e0af451jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="854" height="481"><figcaption>Lukla. Photo: RAJENDRA B. SINGH.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f359c7e80680e0af452jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="816" height="612"><figcaption>Bhojpur. Photo: YUVRAJ BISTA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f379c7e80680e0af453jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1353" height="902"><figcaption>Bhaktapur. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f3b9c7e80680e0af454jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1304" height="870"><figcaption>Bhaktapur. Photo: AMIT MACHAMASI.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f3e9c7e80680e0af455jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1107"><figcaption>Chandragiri. Photo: ACHYUT REGMI.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f419c7e80680e0af456jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1350"><figcaption>Doti. Photo: BIMAL BAHADUR BISTA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f449c7e80680e0af457jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1350"><figcaption>Doti. Photo: BIMAL BAHADUR BISTA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f479c7e80680e0af458jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="800" height="450"><figcaption>Simkot. Photo: DANE BOHARA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f499c7e80680e0af459jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1350"><figcaption>Humla. Photo: DANE BOHARA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f4d9c7e80680e0af45ajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="1834"><figcaption>Jajarkot. Photo: HEMANTA KC.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f509c7e80680e0af45bjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="454"><figcaption>Rasuwa. Photo: HIMNATH DEVKOTA.</figcaption></figure><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161156/636d1f539c7e80680e0af45cjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2400" height="2112"><figcaption>Jajarkot. Photo: HEMANTA KC.</figcaption></figure>

Nepal lashed by winter rain and snow

October is buckwheat harvest time in the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo/">distant highlands of Dolpo</a>. In the village of Tso, Namdak Sangmo watches other women from her village fling their sickles, stoop over to sling the sheaves on their shoulders, and bring the crop in. Sangmo, 68, does not have her own crop to harvest because she does not have any land anymore. Her riverside terraces were washed away by a flash flood in 2012, and another one in 2019 destroyed what was left, leaving a barren boulder-strewn slope. “It was a raging torrent, and it came down suddenly and swept everything in its path, I do not have any land left to farm,” says Sangmo. She is not the only one, almost half the villagers in Tso lost their standing crop and fields when a wall of mud and boulders raced down from the slopes of the 6,883m high Mt Kanjiroba that towers over the district. Scientists have not drawn a direct correlation between the climate crisis and extreme weather events like this, but they say there is evidence that droughts, record downpours, and erratic monsoons in the Himalaya are a result of a hotter atmosphere. This year’s monsoon has seen freak downpours and unprecedented rainfall in the trans-Himalayan regions of Nepal. Unseasonal rains this week unleashed deadly floods and landslides, especially in western Nepal. The Himalayan mountains are warming between 0.3-0.7°C faster than the global average, causing glaciers to shrink, snowlines to recede, and increasing the danger of floods when expanding glacial lakes burst. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18e39c7e80680e0ac7edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"></div> Sangmo remembers well that September day two years ago. “It had rained non-stop for two days, and suddenly we heard a big roar from up the mountain, my brother-in-law told us to run,” she recalls. There was unusually heavy rain where snow used to fall, and the fragile moraine ridges below Kanjiroba just dissolved, sending the debris flow racing down to the village below. A similar flood in June on the Melamchi River damaged Kathmandu’s water-supply project, Nepal’s most expensive infrastructure scheme. In Manang, a trans-Himalayan valley north of the Annapurnas, there was record-breaking rainfall that unleashed deadly floods. “There is more and more evidence that extreme rainfall events are caused by climate change, and these trigger sudden floods that destroy farms and settlements downstream,” says Arun Shrestha, a climate specialist with the River Basins and Cryosphere division at the Kathmandu-based International Centre for Integrated Mountain Development (ICIMOD). There has not been enough study to determine if the Dolpo flood was <a href="https://www.dhm.gov.np/uploads/climatic/467608975Observed%20Climate%20Trend%20Analysis%20Report_2017_Final.pdf">caused by a glacial lake outburst flood (GLOF)</a>, or just extra-heavy rainfall on sediment deposits in high mountain valleys, but the result was just as devastating. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18da9c7e80680e0ac7eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">The tongue of the glacier below Kanjiroba from which the floods came down.</div> A recent Himalayan <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-glacial-lakes-in-danger-of-bursting/">Glacial Lake Inventory</a> by <a href="https://www.icimod.org/event/glacial-lake-inventory-launch/">ICIMOD </a>and UNDP mapped 3,624 new glacial lakes on Nepal’s main river basins and found that 47 of them could <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/editorial/more-himalayan-tsunamis/">burst at any time</a>, with the risk of catastrophic flooding down valley. Of these, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/here-now/nepals-glacial-lakes-in-danger-of-bursting/">25 lakes are in Tibet,</a> but flow into tributaries of Nepal’s main rivers. While communities in Nepal have historically learnt to reduce risk from these floods by not settling along riverbanks, new poorly-designed roads, settlements and infrastructure are vulnerable to these climate induced disasters. While GLOFs can happen at some point in the future, weather extremes caused by the climate crisis have already unleashed a creeping disaster in Himalayan villages like Tso. This year, a 7-month <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/no-smoke-without-fire-2/">winter drought led to wildfires</a> and floods in Dolpo, displacing farmers, and forcing them to migrate. As <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/Shey-Phoksundo-may-soon-become-a-bus-park,3975">Dolpo is connected by road</a>, most men have left rural areas for work in the cities or abroad to supplement their income, and it is the women who stay behind who bear the brunt of the impact of climate change -- the drudgery of having to walk farther for water, or suffer from failed harvests. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18dd9c7e80680e0ac7ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Massive flashfloods in 2012 and 2019 that came down from Mt Kanjiroba washed away fields and homes in Tso village.</div> “Climate change adds to the extra load of women in rural areas because of unpredictable rain, floods droughts and springs going dry,” says <a href=".%20https:/www.icimod.org/team/abid-hussain/">Abid Hussain</a>, of the Mountain Agriculture and Livelihood division of ICIMOD. Most of Nepal’s subsistence farmers are dependent on rain-fed agriculture, and <a href="https://www.thestatesman.com/world/women-participation-in-agriculture-is-highest-in-nepal-1502659946.html">83% of the country's women are fulltime farmers</a>. Namdak Sasngmo’s husband died 15 years ago, and her children are married. Without her fields, she finds it difficult to take care of her family. Nepal’s central or local governments should be helping her, but there has been no compensation for the loss and damage. Without her fields, with <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/trekking-to-save-nepals-snow-leopards/">no income from trekking tourism</a> due to the pandemic, and a decline in the yarsagumba crop, Sangmo is worried. Left to fend for themselves, she has fallen back on her faith in the Tibetan animist belief system that has deep reverence for the mountains as divine creations that have their serene and destructive sides that need to be appeased through prayer and good deeds. “We may have angered the gods of Kanjiroba with our deeds,” says Sangmo.“We made the river impure and many outsiders came and polluted the lake.” <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18e09c7e80680e0ac7ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Namdak Sangmo, 50, harvests buckwheat in a neighbour’s field because her farm was washed away by the flood.</div> To prevent future calamities, the monk at the local monastery, Khenpo Lama, performed a ritual to appeal to Mt Kanjiroba with a shebchu at a small stupa with offerings of buckwheat and barley. Sangmo believes it worked, because “everything has been quiet on the mountain after that”. From his monastery, Khenpo Nyima himself has noticed the change in weather, and the snow retreating higher and higher up Kanjiroba. Although he does not connect this to the global climate crisis, he is convinced outsiders are to blame. “We have seen the mountains changing, and that is because there are more and more outsiders coming here and they are desecrating nature,” he says, looking up at the icy tongue of a glacier below Kanjiroba, the top of which is veiled in monsoon clouds. He says the modern world has also changed the traditional ways in Dolpo. Local people no longer rely on dorima that determines the schedule for planting, harvesting, and the timings for taking yaks and goats up to high pasture. “They also do not put up prayer flags in the yulsa every year, and this has displeased the gods,” Khenpo Nyima adds. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18e39c7e80680e0ac7edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"></div> However, the local government and the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596">Shey Phoksundo National Park</a> are not relying on prayers to protect citizens here. They built an embankment along the river after the 2012 flood to shield Tso’s village and farms, but it was washed away in the second flood in 2019. “We may need a bigger budget to build a proper wall that will save the village the next time there is a big flood, I am trying to convince the municipality authorities, but we need more help,” says Nima Lama, the ward chair. However, studies have shown that people in mountain regions across the world have been adapting to the changing climate without knowing why it is changing, and using local belief systems and traditions to do so. <a href="https://phys.org/news/2019-06-mountain-dwellers-glaciers-climate.html">Anthropologist Ben Orlove of Columbia University’s Earth Institute</a> interviewed people in locales including the Peruvian Andes, and found that while villagers were aware of the changes, they were adapting to them without necessarily linking it to climate change. Orlove proposes framing the ‘climate change’ narrative as a need for ‘community change’ so the focus is on how villagers can benefit from the measures they take to adapt to lack of rain, water shortages, or flood-prevention embankments. That appears to be already happening here in Dolpo, an arid trans-Himalayan region of Nepal where people are falling back on a sense of community and traditional belief systems to cope with the impacts of the climate crisis. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18e69c7e80680e0ac7eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">Yarsagumba is a fungus that grows on a caterpillar, and is harvested in spring in the Himalaya. It is in high demand across the border in China.</div> The climate and ‘Himalayan viagra’ As the climate crisis impacts on the pastoral lifestyle of the people of Dolpo, the women who remain in the remote villages have started relying more and more on <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/its-yarsa-picking-time/">yarsagumba, the caterpillar fungus</a> that is prized in Chinese medicine for its supposed aphrodisiac properties. These days, it is mainly women who climb up to the high slopes where the fungus pokes out of the ground after snow melts in spring. They harvest the yarsagumba and sell it to middlemen who in turn sell it to wholesalers at the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo/">Chinese border, 4 days walk to the north.</a> However, a combination of <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/latest/heavy-snowfall-over-nepal-himalaya/">unseasonal snowfall</a>, long periods of drought and warmer weather is affecting the yarsagumba, too. Schools in Dolpo close at yarsa harvest time so students can accompany parents to the pick the fungus, but this year they have returned empty-handed. “We went up in April, but the yarsa was not fully mature and it was soggy, there was nothing to pick,” says one student, Sangmo Lama. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221110161128/636d18e99c7e80680e0ac7efjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000">With her trekking income gone, and farm washed away by floods, Namdak Sangmo used to depend on yarsagumba picking. But even the growth of the fungus has been affected by weather extremes caused by climate change.</div> While over-harvesting in the past has been one of the reasons for the decline in the yarsa crop, it should have revived in the past two years when the pandemic reduced the numbers of pickers. That lends support to the theory that a warmer Himalaya is also affecting growth of the valuable fungus and contributes to the end of the yarsa <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/yarsagumba-dispute-dolpa,1424">gold rush</a>. Local people who relied on tourism and livestock for income had <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18321#.XnOPvS2B3-Y">earnings from the fungus</a> as a fall back. Now, that option is also gone. Yarsa made up more than half of the annual income of an average Dolpo household. While the fungus is sold for only Rs5,000 per kg to the Chinese traders at the border, it can fetch as much as $75,000 per kg in Shanghai. After she lost her fields to the glacial floods, Namdak Sangmo of Tso village used to rely solely on yarsa income. She used to collect at least 100 pieces of fungus in the past, two years ago she found only six pieces, and this spring none at all. “Without yarsa what do we eat? How do we survive? The mountain was angry and took away my fields, there is nothing to do but pray,” says Sangmo, as she sharpens her sickle to help the other women in their buckwheat fields. This report was supported by the Road to COP26 campaign implemented by the British Council and funded by UKAID.

Climate change is a disaster in the Nepal Himalaya

<div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbb99c7e80680e0802dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="416"></div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbbc9c7e80680e0802ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="412"></div> It is morning here at 4,000m, and an overnight blizzard has left everything white. All around us, the outlines of the <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/stairway-to-heaven">mountains of Dolpo</a> have been softened by new snow. Below, Phoksundo Lake is partly ice-covered. The snow has made it easier for us to look for snow leopard tracks. These cats are elusive enough, but their fluffy camouflage makes them hard to see even if they are nearby. ‘That the Snow Leopard is, that it is here, that its frosty eyes watch us from the mountain -- that is enough. And in the not-seeing, I am content.’ These lines from <a href="https://www.newyorker.com/science/elements/peter-matthiessens-the-snow-leopard-in-the-age-of-climate-change">Peter Matthiessen’s classic The Snow Leopard</a> echo in my mind, and make me curious: what does this creature that is so hard to see look like? <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171152/636bdb9f9c7e80680e0802d4jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"> </div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdba29c7e80680e0802d5jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1502" height="1000"> </div> It is the philosophical Zen-like idea of the ‘not-seeing’ that holds such symbolism in Matthiessen’s book. Its powerful description of the animal that is there but not there, that you look for but cannot see. It reminds us of our own ephemeral presence in the eternity of nature, of being here today, gone tomorrow. Like the tracks on the snow that indicate that the being is nearby, its proof will be erased soon enough with the warmth of the sun. All that will remain is the memory of our presence, and the flash of fur on an icy crag. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdba69c7e80680e0802d6jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"> </div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdba99c7e80680e0802d7jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1001"> </div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbac9c7e80680e0802d8jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1503" height="1000"> </div> The snow leopard is one of the world’s most elusive and rare cats. It is sparsely distributed across 12 countries in Central Asia and the Himalaya, admirably adapted to its high and rugged range at elevations of 3,000-4,500m. The snow leopard has become not just a professional quest for my sister <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/regular-columns/GUEST-COLUMN/Shey-Phoksundo-national-park-may-soon-become-a-bus-park,1036">Tshiring Lhamu Lama</a>, but also a personal journey. She is a Snow leopard researcher and conservationist, and founder of <a href="http://www.snowleopardjourneys.com/" target="_blank">Snow Leopard Journeys</a>. As luck would have it, she invited me to join her to spend three winter months earlier this year in our birthplace of <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596">Phoksundo</a> to document her research, and to plan for a Snow Leopard Conservation Trek next year. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbaf9c7e80680e0802d9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"> </div> There is an easier way to see a snow leopard: through camera traps that we installed. But there is nothing to beat the sight of a snow leopard in the flesh. It was after a month of stalking and tracking that I had my first encounter on 28 February. The coronavirus pandemic had spread from China to Europe by then, but up here in remote Dolpo, we had no idea. I was alone, scanning the ridges and checking up on the motion-detection camera inside a small cave. It was 6pm and already getting dark when, right at the entrance to the cave, was a large cat that looked like a furry cloud trailing a long curly tail. We were face-to-face. The leopard was as surprised to see me as I was. My happiness at seeing this apparition overcame my fear. Was it real? Was it an illusion? Did I really see it? In slow motion, I stretched my hand to grab my camera. The leopard noticed my movement, and leapt away noiselessly, disappearing up into the cliffs above. I did manage a grainy photo as it bolted off – visual proof to myself that I had actually seen what I had just seen. We sighted snow leopards four more times this winter. I will never forget its haunting yowl echoing from the cliffs overlooking Phoksundo Lake. Even when we did not hear it, the leopard’s ghostly presence was all around us. It would pass through our village, marking and depositing scat, but it would disappear before we noticed it was there. “It looks like he is challenging us, teasing us, playing hide and seek,” Tshiring said. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbb39c7e80680e0802dajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2962" height="1500"> </div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbb69c7e80680e0802dbjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1516" height="1000"> </div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbb99c7e80680e0802dcjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="416"></div> <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbbc9c7e80680e0802ddjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="640" height="412"></div> My sister has been to every corner of Dolpo, where even our locals have not yet been, to research snow leopards. We were all inspired by <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/Nepali-Times-Buzz/saving-shey-phoksundo-in-nepal,3596" target="_blank">George Schaller</a> and Peter Matthiessen, who passed through our village of Phoksundo in 1973, long before either of us were born. Schaller’s study of the blue sheep and Matthiessen’s The Snow Leopard have been the inspiration for Tshiring’s conservation work. In 2016, she joined Schaller’s team which was retracing his 1973 trip, and had a chance to carry forward her study into snow leopards. “Throughout my research in Dolpo, our people would ask me why we need to save these predators that kill our yaks and sheep, and which do not give us any milk or food,” Tshiring tells me. She tried to explain to the herders the importance of maintaining the ecological balance of these mountains, and how the snow leopard is at the top of the food chain. She has seen two snow leopard cubs being dragged out of the lair and killed, and we have a camera shot of another snow leopard trailing a nylon rope from a trap around its waist. This has given her work even more of a sense of urgency, and she is convinced that snow leopard conservation can only happen if the local communities are involved in protecting the animal. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kiIwR3LeEtM&amp;feature=youtu.be&amp;fbclid=IwAR0EVujKi0ZU2XHo32PDtpnVTm9jr3MwVK0WjFt2OLbfd4ZHvFKgNN9l1So They may be convinced about helping protecting the animals if they see benefits from its conservation through <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/bon-voyage/" target="_blank">wildlife tourism</a>. &nbsp;Trekking is becoming the mainstay of Dolpo’s economy now, even though this year there have been no tourists and no income because of the Covid-19 crisis. But for next year and beyond, Tshiring is convinced that the Snow Leopard Conservation Trek to Phoksundo Lake can <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/dazzling-dolpo/" target="_blank">attract premium tourists</a> from all over the world, bringing jobs and income to locals. This, in turn, will convince them of the value of protecting the habitat of the snow leopard in Nepal’s <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/new-high-way-to-dolpo/" target="_blank">largest district bordering the Tibet Plateau</a>. Last winter, our main aim was to engage and involve local herders through employment opportunities which might change their perception about snow leopards into the protection of these magnificent cats. Snow Leopard Journeys will not just create jobs, but also plough 10% of its income for further snow leopard conservation work by sustaining herder livelihoods. <div class="embed-block"><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109171156/636bdbbf9c7e80680e0802dejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1000"> </div> <a href="http://snowleopardjourney.com/" target="_blank">snowleopardjourney.com</a>&nbsp; <a href="mailto:snowleopardjourney.dolpo@gmail.com" target="_blank">snowleopardjourney.dolpo@gmail.com</a> +977-98 51 32 96 09

Trekking to save Nepal's snow leopards

https://youtu.be/ZBGnZ7H7l_kThe yarsa gumba harvesting season this year coincides with the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/what-is-novel-about-the-novel-coronavirus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">coronavirus scare</a>  and as rumours spread about its supposed medicinal properties, there could be a run on the <a href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/overharvesting-yarsa-and-income,1546" target="_blank" rel="noopener">over-extracted Himalayan fungus</a> this year.Furthermore, with the spring trekking season wiped out by the <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/opinion/global-thinking-and-local-action-on-coronavirus/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">COVID-19 epidemic</a>  local people dependent on tourism income will now have to fall back on <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=18321#.XnOPvS2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">earnings from a fungus</a> that fetches high prices across the Himalaya in China.The highest-quality yarsa can fetch up to $70,000 per kg in China, and its collection each mid-May to mid-July can account for between 65% and 100% of a picker’s annual income. But the profits can be both a blessing and a curse.The additional income helps pay for food, education and support for aging parents, and donations to local monasteries. But the harvest season also brings an influx of tens of thousands of people each spring to Nepal’s fragile alpine ecosystem in a <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/yarsagumba-dispute-dolpa,1424" target="_blank" rel="noopener">stampede that looks like a gold rush</a>.Whole hillsides of slow-growing juniper are cut each year for fuel in Dolpo and Tibet, and there has been an increase in wildlife poaching, <a href="https://www.nepalitimes.com/banner/everest-fights-back/" target="_blank" rel="noopener">litter and garbage</a>  and free-range defecation. There has also been an increase in alcohol and drug consumption, conspicuous consumerism, the loss of traditional cultural values, violence, and even occasional murders.But here in <a href="https://nepalitimes.atavist.com/high-water" target="_blank" rel="noopener">the Barun Valley</a> the impact of the yarsa season is more benign due to closer engagement of the local community. The Barun is a beyul, a sacred valley blessed by Guru Rinpoche in the 8th century as a refuge for the faithful in times of stress. The landscape is dominated by the spectacular rock face of Shiva Danda, where three caves look like the eyes and nose of Lord Shiva. Each summer, pilgrims undertake the difficult and dangerous rock climb to the caves.There is also a pigmented cliff at Riphuk which pilgrims believe is a painting of a snow leopard by Guru Rinpoche. Ama Buchung is a rock massif in the shape of a pregnant woman, known for granting the gift of children to the devout. There is also the sacred Seto Pokhari glacial lake near Mt Makalu base camp.The main difference between the <a href="http://archive.nepalitimes.com/news.php?id=19381#.XnOPwi2B3-Y" target="_blank" rel="noopener">yarsa harvesting season</a> in the Barun and in western Nepal is terrain. While much of the yarsa in Dolpo are on rolling high-altitude meadows, in the Barun the fungus grows upon precipitous slopes dropping thousands of metres to the valleys below.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b792c9c7e80680e0646e9jpeg.jpg" alt="" width="960" height="720"/>Mt Makalu (8,485m) towers over the sacred Seto Pokhari glacial lake.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101152/636b792f9c7e80680e0646eajpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1080" height="608">Young yarsa harvesters comb the slopes high above the Barun River. Photo: TSERING SHERPAConversations with Makalu-Barun National Park officials, lodge owners, yarsa middlemen and harvesters showed that there are about 3,000 people who come to collect the fungus here every spring. Unlike in other regions in Nepal, they do not leave behind much trash, carry in their own fuelwood, and cannot remember any violence.Sherpa families from Tashigaon have been camping and harvesting yarsa here for years. Young men from Seduwa sleep in teahouses in the Valley and hike up 1,500m to the meadows each morning to pick yarsa. There are laughing school children on holiday, and everyone seems to have a good time.The main reason for the peaceful, non-competitive atmosphere is that the quality and value of yarsa in the Makalu-Barun region is not as high as that from Tibet or Dolpo. In 2016, a kilogram of Makalu yarsa fetched only $4,800 from the local middleman, as compared to $21,120 for the famously large, yellowish, and pungent smelling Dolpo yarsa.Furthermore, instead of representing up to 90% of a family’s income as it does in Dolpo, yarsa harvests here yield the same income as portering, raising livestock, lodge management or work at Makalu Base Camp that paid $20 per day. With the collapse of trekking this season, however, there could be more pressure.In the Barun Valley, yarsa has been just one more source of income in an already diversified economy. Income from yarsa has just not been worth fighting over.More importantly, villagers, the Buffer Zone Council, and the local government have developed a system to manage yarsa harvests that is fair and equitable.As a result the stunningly beautiful but fragile Barun Valley ecosystem remains largely undisturbed and intact.<h2>Yarsa gumba merchandise</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79319c7e80680e0646ebjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1034" height="522"><a style="font-size: 15px; letter-spacing: 0.01em;" href="https://archive.nepalitimes.com/article/nation/regulation-of-yarsa,1547" target="_blank" rel="noopener">Products containing yarsa gumba extracts</a> have become increasingly popular due to the fungus' purported health benefits. Yarsa is known to some by the nickname ‘Himalayan viagra’, and most commercial products that make use of it emphasise anti-aging and libido-inducing qualities. In China yarsa is even added to whiskey and cigarettes.Yu Chun Mei Cordyceps is a China-made skin cream (above, left) that claims to fight skin-ageing and eliminate wrinkles, black spots and pimples. The day-and-night cream claims to be made from 100% natural ingredients and is sold in various countries in Asia.Probably the most widely found product to use yarsa gumba extract is tea made from the fungus, of which the varieties are many (above, right). Manufacturers of the teas claim that they treat fatigue, sickness, kidney disease and low sex drive.Some bars in Kathmandu serve aged aila infused with yarsa gumba, which gives the spirit a tangy aroma that competes with the smell of the alcohol. A manufacturer in Nepal even markets yarsa gumba capsules as a ‘health supplement.’<h2>YARSA-NOMICS</h2><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79349c7e80680e0646ecjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="2144" height="580">Yarsa gumba has been used by the Chinese for hundreds of years to treat a variety of illnesses, and its more recent reputation as an aphrodisiac has added greatly to its marketability. Wealthy Chinese also use it in soups and tea as a status symbol when serving favored guests.Yarsa gumba, translated from the Tibetan as ‘summer grass winter worm’, carries the scientific name Ophiocordyceps sinensis. It is one of the most valuable medicinal fungi in the world and grows in Himalayan valleys above 4,000m from western India to Nepal, Tibet, and Bhutan.<img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79379c7e80680e0646edjpeg.jpg" alt="" width="438" height="582"><figure><img src="https://superdesk-pro-c.s3.amazonaws.com/sd-nepalitimes/20221109101156/636b79389c7e80680e0646eejpeg.jpg" alt="" width="1500" height="1125"><figcaption> </figcaption></figure>There are more than 200 species of Cordyceps (short for Ophiocordyceps) fungus worldwide, and in Nepal they parasitise the bodies of ghost-moth larva that live on the roots of alpine wildflowers found high up in summer yak pastures.Once contact with the larva is made, the fungus remains dormant for about four years, after which it begins to slowly consume the larva’s insides, leaving behind a shell that looks like a mummified caterpillar. The little mummy larva then slowly shifts its body to point upward toward the surface, after which a black ‘stromata’ grows from its forehead and emerges as a fruiting body 4cm long.It takes sharp eyes to find these pointed, black, stem-like mushrooms, and young children, with their keen eyesight and low proximity to the ground, are by far the most successful collectors. The stromata is ever-so-carefully pulled upward using forefinger and thumb to reveal the entire yarsa gumba body, which is then cleaned, dried, and stored in cloth bags.According to anthropologist Geoff Childs, the introduction of yarsa gumba harvesting since legalised by the Nepal Government in 2001 has ‘…contributed to economic and environmental transformations across the Tibetan Plateau and Himalayan region...than any development scheme could envision’.Alton C Byers, PhD is a mountain geographer at the Institute of Arctic and Alpine Research, (INSTAAR) University of Colorado at Boulder. In the mid-1990s, he worked as co-manager of the newly formed Makalu-Barun National Park. His recent paper on yarsa gumba harvesting in the Barun Valley is published in the journal Himalaya (v. 39, number 2)

It's yarsa-picking time

Where will Nepal be in 2050? It is only 25 years away. The country’s population will be peaking at 36 million, the poverty rate will drop to near zero. Maternal and child mortality rates will fall further. Nepal will be generating up to 40,000MW of hydro and solar power, more than half of that for export. Upgraded highways will improve connectivity, railways will make transport cheaper. Pokhara and Birganj will only be two hours away from Kathmandu. Nijgad airport could be Nepal’s new aviation hub, reducing Kathmandu’s congestion. Nepal will hitch its wagon to the engines of economic growth in India and China. Investment and job creation will reduce outmigration, Nepal's data centres will be powered with surplus electricity. Remote areas will prosper with high-value tourists. That is if all goes well. But if Nepal’s politics remains dysfunctional with incompetent leadership, then the country will muddle along as it is doing now. Society will be more unequal, public discontent may boil over as politicians resort to faith to hide failures, the exodus abroad of youth will continue. Climate breakdown will exacerbate these crises. Global average temperature will have risen to 2.7°C above pre-industrial levels (it is 1.1°C now). The remaining Himalayan icecap will shrink by half, glacial lakes will threaten valleys. The hydrology of rivers will change, reducing dry season flow. Severe and prolonged heat waves in the Tarai will force people to migrate back to the mountains. In the final analysis, it all boils down to a political system that is more accountable, and displays more integrity and efficiency. <h2>Mission 2050</h2> · Melamchi Water Supply Project · Pokhrara International Airport · Bhairawa International Airport · Upper Tama Kosi Hydroelectric Project . Kathmandu-Tarai Expressway What do these biggest infrastructure projects in Nepal have in common? All ended up being more expensive than they should, all have been delayed and are not fully operational, two were badly damaged in climate-related disasters that should have been foreseen. The $800 million Melamchi is Nepal’s most expensive infrastructure project to date. It took 30 years to build, but was nearly destroyed by a glacial debris flow in June 2021. The headworks need major repairs. The 456MW Upper Tama Kosi was severely damaged by a rockfall and floods in last September’s floods. It is still not operating at full capacity, and other hydropower plants were damaged in recent glacial floods. Pokhara and Bhairawa airports were supposed to be the new aviation gateways to Nepal to take the pressure off Kathmandu, and become game changers for tourism and pilgrimage. Nearly three years later, both handle domestic flights. Poor and inadequate design, kickbacks on contracts, cost overruns, failure of diplomacy to get India’s nod on air routes, and lack of planning and marketing have made the airports a pair of white elephants. Some of these setbacks can be blamed on natural calamities, but mostly it is political incompetence and greed, lack of accountability and poor implementation. That is no surprise, since these are the hallmarks of doing business in Nepal, often delaying projects, adding to the cost, and even when completed they are already outdated. That is the story of the last 25 years, are the next 25 going to be any different? Not if governance does not improve. “What we really need for the future is vision, idea, and understanding, and then the domestic capacity to implement them,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya, who laments the total absence of technical and planning expertise. “None of our national highways meet technical standards, our cities are unplanned. The priority was never on quality. Politicians sold us short-term infrastructure that have now become a barrier to prosperity,” he adds. One silver lining has been private sector involvement in hydropower, and the energy strategy aims to generate 11,769MW by 2030. But hydropower is high-investment, high-risk due to climate breakdown, and ecologically damaging. “Hydropower is a good example of how government incentives and public-private partnership can work wonders, although we now have to take climate change into account,” explains economist Kalpana Khanal of the Policy Research Institute. She adds, “We now have to identify other key infrastructure areas that also enhance the growth of other sectors.” The National Planning Commission’s periodic plans guide overall social and economic strategy for the country into the coming decade. Nepal’s current five-year plan (2024-2029) has set a target of 7.3% annual economic growth against the current 3.9%, $2,351 per capita income up from $1,456 at present, and poverty reduction to 12%. The plan aims to export nearly half the hydropower generated by 2030, earning the country Rs41 billion annually. But there is no real coordination between line agencies, and bureaucratic lethargy leads to constant delays, says former member of the National Planning Commission (NPC) Min Bahadur Shahi. “Development in Nepal is still very much synonymous with building roads and bridges, and infrastructure is rudimentary,” he says. “Elsewhere in the world, digital infrastructure and governance go hand in hand, we are far behind.” The frustration of a man who served in the National Planning Commission is an indication where the problem lies: in actually executing plans and implementing strategies. “We need to prioritise projects based on our geography, climate, societal needs,” Shahi continues. “We want to push Nijgad airport when we can’t even operate Pokhara and Bhairawa. Have we even studied potential air routes and needs of international carriers?”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250726070744_0547e5a7fd4424b5de8c279cab637ee7ebd9e65f2673b15e6dbd4eb2aa2524f2.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="20250726070744_0547e5a7fd4424b5de8c279cab637ee7ebd9e65f2673b15e6dbd4eb2aa2524f2" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Pokhara airport"><figcaption>NO FLY ZONE: Pokhara airport was supposed to be the new aviation gateway to Nepal but nearly three years after its inaguration, it mostly handles domestic flights. Photo: RADHIKA KANDEL </figcaption></figure>  TARGET PRACTICE Export of hydropower, manpower and lately information technology are the mainstays of Nepal’s economy, and will carry the country to its graduation from Least Developed Country status to a developing country in November 2026, and hopefully to middle-income by 2030. Nepal has an installed capacity of about 3,800MW, most of it from hydropower, and increased adoption of electric cars has reduced the import of petroleum products, decreasing the trade deficit with India. Meanwhile, Nepalis abroad sent home $11 billion in remittances last year, and at least $900 million in backend IT exports. But demographer Yogendra B Gurung is not impressed: “Despite the reduction in the poverty rate, and our improving income status, life expectancy, income, even maternal and infant mortality are not on par with countries with similar economic status.” He says relying on remittances is an unsustainable economic model, vulnerable to external factors and remittances are mostly spent on day-to-day needs, and not invested in productive sectors. Remittance is credited with reducing poverty in Nepal which is down to 20.27% from 42% in 1990. Money sent home by workers abroad has allowed families to afford basic healthcare and education, in turn helping to reduce childhood malnutrition and maternal mortality while improving female literacy. But the progress has stalled in recent years, and many doubt Nepal will meet its Sustainable Development Goals (SDGs) targets. The National Planning Commission has said Nepal is likely to achieve just 60% of the targets by 2030. Sex ratio at birth, which is 112 boys to 100 girls in Nepal in particular, is worrying, as it is much higher than the biological ratio of 105 to 100. This is much more pronounced in Karnali, Sudurpaschim and Madhes Provinces which suffer from historical neglect. Despite a rise in female literacy, patriarchy is still deeply entrenched and the provinces are behind the rest of the country for gender equality, education, healthcare, nutrition and economic opportunities. “Karnali is resource-rich, especially hydropower and the recent discovery of the methane gas, but inequality is much greater,” says Shahi, who is with the Karnali Integrated Rural Development and Research Centre (KIRDARC). “Federalism in Nepal is only on paper, we need a total structural reform to devolve political power to really bring about change.”  <figure><img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250726070744_fd4a218656e1fbf6f13f5f87a47bfe624516c6a0232481b6be77875ae866deb9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="20250726070744_fd4a218656e1fbf6f13f5f87a47bfe624516c6a0232481b6be77875ae866deb9" data-rendition-name="original" width="3600" height="2400" loading="lazy" alt="Butwal-Narayangadh "><figcaption>The Daunne section of the Butwal-Narayangadh road notorious for traffic jams and accidents, it has been in never-ending construction for three years. Photo: BISHNU PRASAD GAUDEL / RSS </figcaption></figure>  Despite limited resources, Nepal also suffers from wasteful investment as a result of politically (mis)guided decision-making, instead of people-centric plans and policies, says demographer Gurung. “People are overwhelmingly moving to the cities but our leaders are hell bent on building roads to every village and now there are empty schools in the mountains,” he adds. Nepal needs data-driven planning but its long-term economic vision 2020-44 seems more of a wish-list than realistic goals, including average annual GDP growth of 10.5%, $12,000 per capita income and population under the absolute poverty line at 0. Other goals include raising electricity generation capacity to 40,000MW, access to motor transport to 99%, life expectancy at birth to 80, maternal mortality down to 20% and literacy to 99% and 100% access to the internet, among others. Meanwhile, Nepal is committed to net-zero by 2045 and 100% renewable energy by 2050. “Our planners have no idea what kind of infrastructure we need 20, 30 years down the line to sustain and accelerate growth. We need a big structural change in the political leadership, in technocratic planning, and for policy implementation,” says infrastructure expert Surya Raj Acharya. Meeting such targets would require large investment, and it would be unwise to rely on remittances for the longer run, especially as Nepal’s demographic dividend will diminish as it turns into an aged society by 2065. Reversing out migration requires a favourable investment climate so jobs are created. Good governance marked by accountability and transparency are the basic prerequisite for ease of doing business. But lack of rule of law and illicit funds put Nepal in the grey list of the Financial Action Task Force (FATF), the global money-laundering watchdog. “Everything comes down to a political will. The established parties must realise that if they don’t perform, they will be replaced by alternatives,” says Kalpana Khanal. “In the meantime, we must engage the youth and find ways to retain them as well as attract the diaspora to invest in Nepal.”

Nepal in 2050

MetLife Nepal has signed Rohit Paudel and Indu Barma, the captains of the national men’s and women’s cricket teams, to promote the importance of life insurance.

Metlife signs Nepal cricket captains

The monsoon has got bad press because Nepal’s tourism operators actively told visitors to avoid <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/opinion/managing-the-monsoon?%2F">the rainy season</a>. It is time to change that. The reason can be found right here in the vast alpine meadows of Central Nepal where this time of year you can walk on velvet grass of pastures abloom with delicate pink, red and yellow flowers as the mist rolls up the valley. There is no sound except the hum of bumble bees. &nbsp;&nbsp; There are dozens of places across high Nepal called Chaurikharka, which means yak pasture. But this particular Chaurikharka in Rukum East located at an altitude of 4,000m stands out for its serene beauty, rustic charm and bucolic setting. There is just the occasional chime of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/when-yaks-go-so-does-culture">yak bells</a> in the distance, and the sharp whistle of herders corralling sheep. &nbsp;&nbsp; The grass shoots are so fragile that one hesitates to step on them, the rounded ridges appear and quickly vanish in waves of mist. With the<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/before-the-next-monsoon"> arrival of monsoon</a>, these meadows are a soothing shade of green dotted with millions of <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/review/the-anatomy-of-a-flower?%2F=">multi-coloured flowers</a>. Until very recently, it took a week or so to hike up to places like Chaurikharka, but with the expansion of the road network even to these far-flung mountains in the lap of Dhaulagiri, they are much more accessible. It is just a three-hour uphill from the Mid-Hill Highway on the border between Baglung and Rukum East.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="20250802130828_a0b06b494d751b2144ffbbf10894ea64b29e8aed844bc8c66171783abfaf4e16" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1365" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Purists would say that such easy access devalues the sanctity of these remote high meadows, but it also means more people will be moved to treasure the experience, appreciate <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/natures-fragile-gift-to-nepal">the value of nature </a>so they can take steps to protect it.&nbsp; To be sure, the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/deadly-monsoon-in-nepal-turns-deadlier">monsoon season can be challenging for road travel</a>. The roads are rough even at the best of times, and in the monsoon they become muddy and treacherous, often blocked by<a href="https://nepalitimes.com/news/monsoon-deluge-in-nepal"> landslides</a>. But that could be precisely the kind of adventure that the more intrepid visitors crave. Improved road connectivity has already made Chaurikharka and places like Badimallika &nbsp;and other sacred lakes in the mountains of western Nepal popular with domestic tourists. What is driving this traffic is the urge to go to exotic new places and share videos and selfies on social media. Several of Nepal’s travel vloggers have visited Chaurikharka and popularised the place, enticing followers on TikTok or YouTube to retrace their footsteps. But even as they become more popular, these fragile and once-remote places should be protected from over-tourism.&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446.jpg" data-media-id="editor_8" data-image-id="20250731110736_f97110b7cdc3e7f80d5877690948fc9f4c95a09c583deb23b07355491e6c5446" data-rendition-name="original" width="1083" height="699" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon NT"> </figure>  <h2>INCREASING FOOTFALL</h2> Chaurikharka is located in Bhume Rural Municipality of East Rukum, near the scenic valley of Dhorpatan in Baglung district. Even in the <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/banner/monsoon-culture">middle of the monsoon</a>, there is a steady stream of Nepali hikers trooping to these high pastures – especially during festival days like Saune Sankranti which this year was on 17 July and actually marks the auspicious beginning of the monsoon here. “This year the rains have not been as heavy and there have been some clear mornings when we could see everything from Dhaulagiri to Machapuchre,” says Khageswar Bhandari, who trekked up here from the road. “The flowers, the greenery and the snowy mountain views make this an incredibly unique place.”&nbsp;  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9.jpg" data-media-id="editor_10" data-image-id="20250802130824_1b9e26f2e9853fdfe69154bb42a7c9ea6da4bf4940efc1da99b304dcfbd7d3d9" data-rendition-name="original" width="2048" height="1152" loading="lazy" alt="Visit Nepal in the monsoon"> </figure>  Chaurikharka is worthwhile to get to in any season, but it has a different charm during the monsoon. Word has spread and because it is now easy to get to from Baglung or even Pokhara, people have been flocking here.&nbsp; “Holidays and Saturdays see the largest crowds, with up to 500 visitors every day,” says ward chair Mankaji Pun of Bhume.&nbsp; There was a time not too long ago when local herders brought sheep, goats, cows, buffaloes, horses, and mules to graze here during the monsoon. Although there are still livestock around, animals have been replaced by visitors taking selfies. Read also: <a href="https://nepalitimes.com/here-now/the-monsoon-and-nature-s-arithmetic">The monsoon, and nature’s arithmetic</a>, Tom Robertson Ward Chair Pun says infrastructure development is his main priority. A foot trail to Chaurikharka was built last year by the Tourism Division Office in Kohalpur, but access via the Raniwas-Koipa road section still remains challenging.&nbsp; “If we get more budget, we can improve the road and facilities to make Chaurikharka the main tourist attraction of this region,” says Bhume Municipality Chair Hom Prakash Shrestha. “After that, we hope to promote Chaurikharka as a top tourist spot.”&nbsp; Economic activity is also picking up with the arrival of visitors, but there seems to be a need to manage the makeshift sheds made of corrugated sheets that spoil the beauty of the place. Tea shops and lodges are also available but facilities are basic. Kuldeep Neupane took a three-day trip from Ghorahi in Dang to visit Chaurikharka recently, and says: “This is an ideal trip to make a quick getaway and let nature recharge your mind and body. And it is much more fun with a tent, to watch the sunrise over the Himalaya or the mist blowing in.”

Visit Nepal in the monsoon

Many of us former Nepal Peace Corps volunteers (PCVs) would agree that our time in Nepal changed in significant but very different ways our perspectives on life if not the future paths we chose to follow. Of no one was this truer than Dorothy Mierow. Dorothy was born in 1920, in Colorado Springs. Her father Charles C Mierow was a classics scholar and Latin professor, who served for ten years as president of Colorado College.&nbsp; Dorothy developed an interest in animals as a child, graduated with a BA degree in natural history from Carlton College in 1942, a Master’s in biology from the University of Pittsburgh, and another Master’s in geography from the University of Minnesota.&nbsp; As a young woman, Dorothy traveled with her father throughout Europe, including a visit to ancient Greek ruins, and took a Magellan Tour by cruise ship around the world in 1958.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262.jpg" data-media-id="editor_0" data-image-id="2025071901074_0bad133ab22aada319e74bbad95d563e191371db291c08f373839fbd15440262" data-rendition-name="original" width="903" height="1178" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>HOME AWAY FROM HOME: Dorothy Mierow as a college student in her native Colorado.</figcaption> </figure>  She was a college teacher during much of the 1940s, also teaching at a girls’ school in Hawaii. Then back to her native Colorado in 1953, where she became a curator and later director of the Colorado College Natural History Museum. She taught geography classes, and in her free time, Dorothy climbed 22 of Colorado’s 14,000-foot peaks. Traveling in India in 1960, Dorothy decided to spend two weeks in Nepal. In late 1961, she filled out an application to join the Peace Corps and specified that she wanted to go to Nepal, ‘because I admired the people so much when my father and I were there on our trip’.&nbsp; Dorothy reached Kathmandu in September 1962 as the first group of American Peace Corps volunteers in Nepal. She stood out from the others: one of the few women in that group, surely the oldest at age 41, a world traveler, and a woman who already had established a professional career.&nbsp; One doubts if Dorothy had had a husband and children whether she would ever have gone to work and spend much of the rest of her life in Nepal.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515.jpg" data-media-id="editor_1" data-image-id="2025071901078_68e84ade1ffb0f6c83c7f8fa5c1e7315b5f6c543217f96cde012e4d86f171515" data-rendition-name="original" width="1259" height="910" loading="lazy" alt="How th Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life NT"> <figcaption>Pokhara Bazar in 1962.</figcaption> </figure>  The Peace Corps assigned Dorothy to teach geography at Tri-Chandra College. After the school closed in the winter due to lack of heating, USAID and the College of Education asked Dorothy to help train general science teachers.&nbsp; She taught for two months and became involved in a textbook-writing project, commenting: ‘I would like the children to know something about public health, conservation (the trees are going fast and so is the soil), and learn the names of some of their common birds, trees, and flowers. They are more impressed with electricity, airplanes, and cell structure.’ When a new college opened in Pokhara in 1963, Dorothy was transferred there and lived with a Nepali family. The college boasted 30 students and no permanent buildings.&nbsp; In October 1963, Dorothy wrote: ‘Pokhara is a town of almost 5,000 people … We are in a fertile valley surrounded by foothills … There is a small Mission Hospital … a Leper Hospital and Tibetan Refugee Camp started by the Red Cross and now run by the Swiss. With winter approaching, more Tibetans are appearing in town, often with pack horses or donkeys. Some have been carrying large boxes of powdered milk,donated (by USAID) to the camp from the airport … There is no electricity, and the transportation problems make many items scarce and expensive. I am really a sort of a museum. The landlord brings all kinds of people in to see how I live and count my shoes and dresses. They express amazement at my books, pictures, tin oven, Nepali dolls from Kathmandu, screened food shelves and curtained closet.’ The standard term for Peace Corps volunteers was two years, but Dorothy extended her term and was still at Prithvi Narayan College at the end of 1965, when she wrote that she had 20 Geography students in the first-year class and 6 in the second year preparing for the IA Examination. The college enrollment was 125 students, and the foundation for a new science building was being excavated.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29.jpg" data-media-id="editor_2" data-image-id="2025071901074_c6a80e5e0db0c705b2f8733c6d30dc0386fe3abbd2238ea9d947b7d746f94a29" data-rendition-name="original" width="902" height="605" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow and friends at Phewa Lake.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy noted that she ate one meal a day at the (Shining Mission) Hospital but otherwise lived on dal-bhat, momo, and potato curry at local shops. However, she had developed a new passion: to build what she initially called the Pokhara Museum of the Himalaya. In commendable Peace Corps fashion, Dorothy always worked with Nepalis and respected the culture. ‘The greatest joy and satisfaction I have had has been from the building of a Museum-Library in memory of my parents … It has been possible to feel like a wealthy benefactor with the money saved by father for the family’s education and now available for the education of others… (Father) would have loved to be in on the founding of a new college and be able to plan a library. Several hundred of the books to be in the museum-library came from his collection and were carefully selected to be of use for students in Nepal…’&nbsp; ‘The museum part is to satisfy my own inclinations and was thought of when I found how little diversion there was for the people of Pokhara… It is part of the University requirements for the college that it should have a geography and biology museum. The museum building is small but adequate.&nbsp; I have tried to design it in harmony with Nepalese architecture and decorate it with some of the art of the best artists or woodcarvers… Posts holding up the porch roof are carved by Cottage Industries to represent different peoples of Nepal in typical costumes. The door was carved by a local wood carver and has typical birds of Nepal around it. Inside are 10 roof-support carvings designed by the retired Director of the National Museum in Kathmandu, Mr. C.M. Maskey.&nbsp; They were carved by the best wood carvers in Patan very skilfully. The building has three rooms: the library, the exhibition room, and a smaller workroom which can be used by our newly formed Woman’s Club as well as other groups or classes.’  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8.jpg" data-media-id="editor_3" data-image-id="2025071901074_03d3359c65389d30a0134e9a4862778994121e7e833b7d28b18e06e36fc76ff8" data-rendition-name="original" width="629" height="599" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow with local women in Pokhara in 1969.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy promoted her project to influential Nepalis connected with organisations whose support she solicited: The Department of Archaeology, the Department of Agriculture, the Godavari Botanical Gardens; Tribhuvan University’s Science and Education Department, Nature Conservation Society.&nbsp; The museum was opened officially in early 1967. The Annapurna Natural History Museum, the building Dorothy designed and had constructed, is still open and features some exhibits which she created many years ago.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26.jpg" data-media-id="editor_4" data-image-id="2025071901074_54326a8a0685e980e782378076de2f5cd02d2426e9b0d94eed972d3dbe83af26" data-rendition-name="original" width="1333" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>The Annapurna Natural History Museum.</figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy returned to America in 1967, but she longed for Nepal. In the spring of 1969, she again tried to enroll as a Peace Corps volunteer but was told that as she had spent more than four years, she would not be eligible for another assignment. Undeterred, she persuaded the college in Pokhara to invite her to return as a teacher.&nbsp; UNICEF and the Forestry Department sponsored Dorothy to prepare charts on trees, birds, animals and flowers in colour for distribution to the schools of Nepal. Dorothy, back in the Peace Corps, returned to Pokhara and the Museum in 1972. She formed a friendship with her former geography student from Sikles, Chandra Prasad Gurung, and in 1974, she brought Chandra to America, where he enrolled in Colorado College and studied cultural anthropology.&nbsp; Chandra subsequently earned his PhD in geography from the University of Hawaii and returned to Pokhara to become director of the Annapurna Conservation Area Project. Gurung actively promoted ecotourism, landscape conservation, and biodiversity conservation in Nepal. His life was cut short along with those of 23 other Nepalis and foreigners who perished in a helicopter crash near Taplejung in September 2006.  <figure> <img src="https://publisher-publish.s3.eu-central-1.amazonaws.com/pb-nepalitimes/swp/asv65r/media/2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314.jpg" data-media-id="editor_5" data-image-id="2025071901074_322d3c3ac6f1b08ffa07c44a19998b937a7db9eb43527f7539cf6481e1546314" data-rendition-name="original" width="2500" height="1000" loading="lazy" alt="How the Peace Corps changed a volunteer's life"> <figcaption>Mierow's four books on Nepal and its biodiversity. </figcaption> </figure>  Dorothy worked with several well-known Nepalis to publish her paintings and photos in beautifully illustrated books. She and Hemanta Mishra of the National Parks and Wildlife Service wrote Wild Animals of Nepal (Ratna Pustak Bhandar, 1976). More than 400 photos Dorothy took on treks to the Everest region, Gosaikunda, Muktinath, Jumla and Rara Lake, as well as travels in the Tarai, appeared in Himalayan Flowers and Trees (Sahayogi Prakashan, 1978).&nbsp; The botanist Tirtha Bahadur Shrestha identified the species. Dorothy and Kesar Lall published This Beautiful Nepal (Sahayogi Press, 1981). Birds of the Central Himalayas (1988) contained Dorothy’s paintings of 250 species of birds found along the areas of the Kali Gandaki River, Pokhara, Chitwan and the central Tarai. Dorothy summed up her life and work in Nepal in Thirty Years in Pokhara (Pilgrims Book House, 1997). Dorothy returned to Pokhara and her adopted Gurung family several times during the 1980s and 1990s to celebrate festivals and meet old friends. Her final years were spent at her mountain cottage in Green Mountain Falls north of Colorado Springs. She died at the age of 79 in August, 2000. Nepal gave new meaning and purpose to Dorothy Mierow’s life. Daniel W Edwards was a Peace Corps volunteer in 1966 and is the author of several books on Nepal. The author thanks Special Collections, Tutt Library, Colorado College.

dolpo