I must share some funny Himalayan camping/trekking animal stories with you, they're busting to come out
It was my first Himalayan trek. During a lull in fighting I went into the Kashmir ranges near the Pakistani border. It was my only ever trek with a guide, porter and cook and 2 other travellers so it was all very exciting.
Anyway, not being restricted by the usual Himalayan safety procedures, we walked straight up to 3,600m on the first day to camp near one of the local nomadic farming families. One of the other travellers, Tina, was feeling sick so the porter and cook stayed behind with her in case she needed to go down to a lower camp while the guide took Matteo and I up to some lakes near 4,500m. I started feeling dizzy about 4,200m but it passed. We stopped for lunch beside a snow fed turquoise lake surrounded by wildflowers and had a snooze in the sun. While we slept a herd of about 40 kashmir goats had wandered down to the lake and joined us. They were sticking their noses in our faces, lying in the grass beside us, and chewing anything we didn't move out of reach, one even photo bombed my pictures. It was so cool!
On the way back we took a different pathless route via some higher nomad camps stopping for tea and bread and saw heaps of marmots sunning themselves on rocks. They're just too cute
That night in camp, around midnight, long after we had fallen asleep in our tents, I half woke to a grunting noise and assumed it was a yak, pony or other domestic animal then suddenly all hell broke loose. The whole farmer's family, children included started yelling and clapping and bashing cooking utensils, our guide, porter and cook joined in. Tina and I stumbled out of the tent only to be met by the guide trying to push us back inside. There were torches flashing everywhere and in the middle of it all was a bear looking very disgruntled. Tina and I very quickly climbed back in out tent and stuck our heads our to watch as the bear ambled away into the rocks.
Everyone's adrenalin was pumping and nobody could get back to sleep so we laughed, played cards and nobody complained when someone's joint filled the tent up with smoke and we all relaxed enough to sleep through the rest of the night.
But I tell ya what, i was very nervous the next morning when nature called. I couldn't get the phrase "Does a bear #!%& in the woods" out of my head
My second trek was in the Karakoram ranges of The Himalaya. I had travelled across with a group of 5 so we could pool the cost of a taxi then took off walking up Hundar Valley for a few days. On the way across from Leh we learnt HH The Dalai Lama was visiting for a week so every morning there was a mass migration from outlying villages as far away as the disputed borders into Diskit for his teachings and blessing. I had already met him on the first day trekking while I stopped for one of his afternoon village visits so I wasn't in a rush into Diskit on my last day of walking. I started about 6.30am, walking out of Skampuk and was joined by all the locals dressed in their best traditional clothes to attend his last public teaching and the big blessing.
As I walked along, the only white tourist in sight, people started giving me their animals to shepherd down to the river. It started with a young girl asking me if I like HH The Dalai Lama (of course I do), she went back to an older woman and then came back and asked if I like animals (yes, i rescue and care for them), after the next chat with the other woman she came back and gave me her switch and showed me how to keep her sheep moving down to the river, they know where to go just don't let them stop and eat anyone's flowers. No worries
A few hundred metres further down the road and an old man merged his yaks with my sheep and gave me a makeshift walking stick and quickly showed me how to tap them gently on their rumps and call out to them in Tibetan yak language

before he took off jumping on the back of an overflowing truck full of brightly dressed happy people.
Within a kilometre I had sheep, yaks, cows, goats and donkeys given to me by locals too impatient to get to Diskit to take their own livestock down to the river. It was hilarious. I was over the moon that all these people trusted me with their animals and couldn't stop laughing at what this picture must have looked like. I have to admit quite a few more flowers were nibbled that morning than usual
I dawdled over the dunes, along the river and through some fields into Diskit in time to enter the Gompa and find a space to sit for the big blessing. Karma
The big trek in Nepal was originally only to Annapurna Base Camp, just before the end of monsoon season, the trekking agent told me his guides and porters were still on holidays, sold me a map, arranged my permits and sent me off alone. I was blissfully ignorant so off I went for a wonderful adventure
To cut a long story short, within the first few kilometres a local family started walking with me and, after seeing I could handle real local food, invited me to join their pilgrimage. As we walked up the valley to Tadapani more family joined us, then we left the tourist track and followed the paths of the nomadic farmers over a pass up near 6,000m to a holy lake at about 5,000m. Again, no altitude rules, i was walking with the locals along an ancient pilgrim path only 1 white person had ever been on before. They had taken a Brittish Nat Geo man up many years before me.
By the time we reached the first farmer's shelter there must have been almost 30 of us. It was a makeshift stone and timber hut with a round fire place in the center and holding pens for the yaks, goats, sheep, chooks and bullocks on either side. I don't know how we did it but we somehow managed to squeeze together like sleeping kittens and puppies with heads and legs resting across each other for the night.
I thought i was lucky to get a spot on the outside. I had only 3 women lying against and on me. But being on the edge also meant being next to the animal pens. I had a bullock snorting in my face, licking my hair and chewing my sleeping bag all night!!!
The next night wasn't so bad. The shepherd who owned the last pilgrim tent was also the sharman/priest who conducted the rituals. That night, about 50 pilgrims, 30 goats and yaks, 5 dogs, some chooks and 1 white woman slept in a huge tent the sharman had filled with smoke to cleanse us during the night. A goat decided I would make a very comfortable bed for the night, I didn't argue because it was probably it's last sleep before being sacrificed.
That was the most privileged, amazing, slightly gruesome, detour i have ever taken
