Andrew Berry hikes in northwest Nepal – Why evolution is true

My friend Andrew Berry, who teaches and advises biology students at Harvard, has long suffered from the virus that infected me when I was younger: the desire to hike in Nepal, where the mountains are impossibly high. This summer he went on a long guided hike to little-visited parts of Nepal (these places require guides) and produced a great 37-minute video (below), accompanied by music and sound. (For more mountain adventures, see Andrew's hour-long video of his trek to Dolpo and the fabled kingdom of Mustang in 2023, featured on these pages.) The following notes are his:

Limi Valley Trek, June 24th

Like Jerry, I have spent a lot of time in Nepal over the years, mostly hiking and trekking. It's hard to beat a high-altitude encounter with the mightiest mountains on earth. I have an academic schedule which means I have plenty of opportunity to travel in the summer, but unfortunately trekking, Nepal and summer don't mix well. The most urgent of my university tasks end around the beginning of June. The monsoon usually reaches Nepal in the middle of the same month, blanketing the mountains in banks of clouds, drenching the hiker (and everyone else) and delighting/stimulating/exciting the voracious leeches that live in the mountain forests. In short, monsoon trekking is pretty grim.

However, there are some regions of Nepal that are less affected by the monsoon than others. Specifically, the further west and north you go, the smaller the impact. After all, it is the Bay of Bengal branch of the monsoon that floods Nepal, so it comes from the east. As you head north, take advantage of the rain shadow of the main Himalayan cordillera. Some regions of Nepal lie north of the range – they are politically Nepal but geographically, culturally and linguistically Tibetan. In the summer of '23 I went to Dolpa and Mustang, this summer to Simikot, the capital in northwest Nepal. This type of trekking is a far cry from the kind of “teahouse” trekking that Jerry and I are used to: you hike from village to village and stay overnight in local accommodation, which means you need to carry little more than a sleeping bag. To visit more remote areas, expensive permits and the accompaniment of officially recognized guides are required. Additionally, since these routes take you beyond inhabited areas, it is necessary to camp and self-supply with food and other supplies. The result of these shared requirements is a logistically complex undertaking – thank goodness for the excellent outfitter I work with in Kathmandu, Raj Dhamala of Himalayan Trekkers.

I always wanted to go to Simikot. After spending six months in Nepal before my studies, I had a map of the country on my room wall for all three years of my studies. As I looked at it, Simikot became a symbol for me of the remote, inaccessible Nepal that I had not been allowed to enter the year before (for financial and permit reasons). It actually took a few years for that fixation to convert into an actual visit (42, if you insist on asking!), but I'm happy to report that Simikot didn't disappoint. The city is centered around a Twin Otter runway, a slice of horizontal—well, a slice of gentle slope—in a world of steep verticals. The mighty Karnali River rushes through its gorge far below. Many hiking tourists pass through (for many it is a starting point for a visit to Buddhism's sacred mountain, Kailash in Tibet), but Simikot remains primarily an administrative and commercial center. Google Translate's influence apparently didn't extend to Simikot (at least not when this sign was painted).

Our route began – initially in a jeep – and ended in Simikot. Two weeks. His main focus was the Limi Valley, which runs WE just south of and parallel to the Sino-Tibetan border. One advantage of the timing is that at this time of year livestock – cattle, sheep, goats, yak – are moved to high summer pastures, meaning we often encountered people and their animals making the same seasonal migrations as their ancestors (both human). as well as animals) for eons. It is truly a privilege to spend time in such a spectacular country and meet so many people who lead lives so far removed from ours. I had discussed with Raj in Kathmandu the possibility of tackling a (smaller) summit climb on the hike, but in the end I was disappointed. For me it's just a hike: 5,000 m over passes is enough for me. I think Ang Dawa, one of three wonderful Sherpa guides with me, was a little disappointed by this lack of serious climbing (he's climbed Everest five times, so he's entitled to his disappointment).

Here is a video montage from the trip. I enjoy taking panoramic photos in such a country and think that a slow pan over such images is the best way to enjoy the landscape. Plus, I can't resist making a lot of videos too. There is so much to see!