Langtang Trek Pt 1
I've been back from Nepal for three days and already the memories, along with my tan, are starting to fade. But fortunately, one of the best things about being away was that I kept a regular diary. This is a habit I only seem to observe when I'm in a foreign country, as if my daily experiences at home aren't worth as much as the ones I have when I'm away.
I'm hoping that after a month I might be inspired to keep it up here, but I find writing about the minutiae of my daily existence can too easily become frustratingly banal. I suppose the challenge is to find ways of making it exciting for yourself, writing in unusual forms, focusing more on how you thought and felt rather than just what happened and even sticking in objects you collect on your daily journeys that will bring them back to life when you revisit them.
When I was in youth theatre our director always encouraged us to keep 'actor's diaries' of our experiences to use later in emotional memory exercises, and that must apply as much if not more so to writers as to actors. And as an aspiring poet, I should try and write my diary directly in poetic form, rather than jotting notes on experiences to be distilled later into poetry. When I was cycling around the UK a few years ago I took a collection of Charles Bukowski, and at one point started trying to adopt his un-edited poetic style in my diary writing, breaking the lines so that they still read like a diary entry but looked like a poem. While it's not necessarily work that you'd want anyone else to read in its raw state, it can often be a much more memorable way of recording your experiences.
So in that spirit, here's a poem that I first wrote straight into my diary as we sat around a wood burning stove in a little guesthouse 3,000 metres up and two days into our trek in the Langtang region of Nepal. I've redrafted it a bit to hone some of the language and images, and to try and capture the plodding rhythm of the up-hill walk. I could do a lot more work on it still, but I also have a lot more to write about our time there. I'd like to focus more on the people and politics of the region as well as just the landscape. Pictures of natural scenes tend to be more interesting with a person in the foreground. But this is my attempt at writing something a bit pastoral, and out of keeping with my usual style. Let me know what you think...
We trudge for days
On rocky trails
That lead us down
Besides, then up
And far away
From the relentless
Roar of the river
As she tears her
Torrential path
Through the valley’s
Heart towards
The sea; cold,
Blue and indifferent
To our advances
And retreats.
Hulking rocky
Ship hulls overhang
Our passage, lined
With rusty soil
Run-off, crossing
The grain of
Sedimentary
Layers which remind
Us these mountains
Once were sea-beds,
Turned on their heads
Through slow and steady
Application of pressure.
Silica from ancient shells
Glitters in the dust
Like the stars that clutter
The black night sky
After the sun has ceased
Her worship of the
Brilliant white peaks
Which remind us why
Man first believed
That mountains were
The home of gods.
And why we yearned
To climb them.
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Comments
Langtang Trek pt1.
Really enjoy reading your blogs..you really do get about lad don't you?
I loved this poem particularly as i'm reading 'A short history of the world' and in the middle of geology section. particularly when you talk about 'silica from ancient shells'. i think one of the most fascinating things about moutains is the fact that they begin life at the bottom of the oceans.
loved the lines
'once sea beds
turned on their heads'
Gift's comments also gave me a greater insight into why they are revered by most cultures.
Yvonne
festive season comments
Um looks like some folks have got to the festive sherry early! I did ban Ben from making 'political rants' on the blog, but perhaps I put it across too narrowly, so Ben go ahead, make somebody's day- tell us why were you in Nepal!
PS I agree with Gift's comments on the poem!
Comments!
I like the 'as an aspiring poet' line - classic.
When I first read this blog I thought to myself that I would try and keep a diary as well but its been easier said than done....
Your poem gets really interesting for me from the 'Silica from ancient shells' line. Every line after then is on point for me.
In the great Afrique, the relationship between mountains and the mysterious is still very much in the fore. There are sacred mountains in the deep bushes of my country that are respected and feared. These are the mountains the ancient Spirit Mediums lived in, prayed for rain on, intercessed for communities on and probably died/dissapeared mysteriously in with the coming of the Europeans.
One cant point at such mountains. Legends have it that people who do get ill. I did it once and got a stomach ache! Others you cant laugh in. Legend has it that such mountains invariably make it hard not to laugh though because they plague those wise, brave or foolish enough to venture into them with monuments such as branches that look like penises and formations on the barks of trees that look like vaginas etc. Those who laugh dissapear never to be seen again and they can be seen or heard on some nights flashing torches looking for a way out.
The most mysterious are the Chinoyi Caves. Filled with profoundly blue water, the caves are sacred. You're not allowed to talk once inside them or throw anything into the water. The Rhodesians tried to harness them back in the day but failed because they always fell asleep at night for some reason. No one knows how deep they are. Those who might do have have never lived to tell. Legend has it the Zimbabwean Spirits live there. The last dude to try and measure them was some British guy who went down there about 2001 with a tank of oxygen. He dissapeared for days on end and of course, no one went after him. He eventually turned up, days later, dead of course.
Thanks Gift, Your comments
Thanks Gift,
Your comments about mountains and spirits are fascinating. Maybe that's a poem or story to be written there - what happened to the guy who tried to measure Chinoyi Caves!
Ho Hum
Jesus Ben, say something interesting. What about the politics of you actually being in Nepal?
Thanks for that Martin. I'm
Thanks for that Martin. I'm not sure entirely what you mean about the politics of me being there though. If you want me to write about the political situation in Nepal, it's so complicated I assure you it would be a lot less interesting to read than a boring little poem about walking in the mountains. If you mean the personal politics of being a (relatively) wealthy westerner in a developing country, or the politics behind the decision to take a production there, well that is something I'd like to write about, but I need to find a way in first...
Aye, that would be the one
You found a way in because you went looking for it. So tell us why you went looking in the first place. And not because it is there.
going looking
why did i go looking for the gurkhas? well, i grew up hearing about how tough they were as soldiers - my old kung fu instructor revered them. Then a certain writer - call him RB - approached me regarding them, and i met one of their reps in Manchester who talked about their pensions plight. I gave what little advice I could but felt also conflicted as I am no great fan of recent British military endeavours. Does that answe the question? PS i hear an echo of that 'we climbed the mountain because it was there' saying in your latest note, Sir. On that philosophical level, I feel we all wish on some deep level, to try help one another as human beings but are thwarted by circumstances. Is that last sentence a Stevie Wonder song yet?
Tibet Nepal Gurkhas
I'm now going to reveal some ignorance, politics wise. I've noticed many left leaning poets supporting the Gurkhas campaign for a better pension from the British Army. Are Gurkhas form Nepal? Is not supporting the Gurkhas the same as supporting the Birtish Army generally, and their actions in, say Iraq?
Yes Gurkhas are from Nepal,
Yes Gurkhas are from Nepal, and yes they are serving in Iraq and Afghanistan, but no, I don't think supporting them is not the same as condoning the British Govt's foreign policy. In the same way that supporting regular troops is not the same as supporting the cause they are fighting for. To paraphrase Mark Thomas - I support the troops, they should be at home where they belong, in barracks playing tiddlywinks or doing gymnastics displays! Not out risking their lives in illegal wars for the benefit of a rich elite. Those who do join up to fight 'for this country', however misguided they may be (or perhaps, in many cases, they had few other options), deserve access to the benefits available to them here, regardless of where they're from.
Diaries
I am new to this. My name is Rachel. Diaries are a good idea for writers. You can get all kinds of diaries now. Travel journals, dream journals. I don't really beleive that there isn't much to write about in home life though. Even the most mundane thing can be made exciting. I have kept a diary since I was sixteen and I am now 37. They started off not very exciting, but they have led onto me becoming a semi professional writer. I think writing a diary whilst away is good, also it fills in the gaps when there is nothing to do and you have done all the exciting stuff on holiday. Some people say why keep a diary. Just keep your thoguhts in your head and I say why not. I think it is good if people can keep a diary in some form for a long period of time. Good luck with them.
Rachel