hot bucket

Ghandruk to Deurali
Day Five
and
Deurali on down
Day Six

Deurali on down
The last day doesn't get its own post.  It was just a three hour walk down the mountain to the road, where at the first blare of car horn I turned around, seriously contemplating heading straight back up and into the mountains.  It was weird emerging back into the real world, like stepping off a spaceship.

The last day of our trip was also the first day of a big festival.  Everyone was getting ready for it by preparing their goats.  At our morning tea stop two guys were washing and shaving a headless goat under the spigot while another guy was burning the head in the fire.  All the way back to Pokhara we saw people dragging goats to the slaughter.  Literally, dragging them.  The goats knew what was up.

For the festival people also set up big swings.  Brad and I both took turns.

Also, that day I made a friend.  She walked with me all the way down the hill till we got to her house.  Then she invited me in to meet the rest of the family.  

Ghandruk to Deurali
The second to last day was memorable for three things
1. Saying goodbye to our buddies, Inaki and Alberto (sad thing)
2. Walking forEVER. (hard thing)
and
3. Taking a hot bucket "shower" in a chicken shit den (funny in hindsight thing)

Inaki and Alberto originally planned to hike four days, then decided to stick with us for six.  After the third night  they decided to take it all the way to base camp.  Inaki had to call his boss on a mountain phone to ask for another week off and they were a little short-supplied.  But an understanding boss and some generous fellow-hikers got them on their way. 

Brad and I were both sad to leave our friends, but almost as soon as we started down the trail, our spirits were lifted.  These girls were singing Mason Pirri Ri, Inaki and Alberto's favorite song. 

I love the little one in front.  Her last move has a name: My mom calls it "the allergy salute."

All day we walked and walked.  We walked down a mountain, just to walk up the one next to it.  Then we walked all the way around that mountain and went halfway down the other side.

Brad took this picture to show our progress.  At this point we were only half way.

We arrived, exhausted, at our tea house just as the sun was setting.  As usual I was ready for my hot shower, but was offered a hot bucket instead.  For the use of the hot bucket, I was ushered into a small room, just to the side of the chicken coop. 

For this, I'll just give you what I wrote in my journal that night:
I'm not going to tell you much about the hot bucket shower.  Just give you some food for thought should you ever find yourself taking one.  
1.  What do you do if you accidentally set your towel and your LAST clean pair of undies in a pile of chicken shit?
2.  What do you do if the water runs out before the soap?
and 
3.  What else do they use this bucket for?  I'll give you the answer to this one: don't think about it.  Don't even dare.   

Now, perhaps, you'll be more prepared than I was.

Brad had a hot bucket shower too and we were in fits of giggles telling each other about it.  The night got better when they lit a fire in the lodge.  Most of the town showed up to enjoy the warmth and Brad and I spent our last night doing our usual activities, but with a slight sadness that all of this was about to end.