I had heard a great deal about the Karnali River before I even set foot on its shores. I had heard about its great beauty, its remoteness, power, and vicissitudes—I had heard about it all. I had also heard about the two equally magnificent expanses that fall on either side of this river—the Rara National Park and the Khaptad National Park. Tired of the stories, I wanted to go and see these places for myself. This year, at around the start of the monsoon (though I was told that this was a bad time to visit), I made my way there.

The torrential rain has its obvious drawbacks for a wandering tourist, however, in exchange for the capricious weather, I was offered a short but honest glimpse of the starkest realities of life in this region. Every monsoon the rain washes away the bucolic illusions of outsiders like me, along with homes, crops and entire villages, revealing an underlying tenacity and fortitude of the people who live here. There were also abundant plants and animals to be seen at this time. The National Parks didn’t fail to amaze me. Though everything was damp and wet, it was also clear and beautiful. As I trekked from Rara to Khaptad National Park, the route went from alpine forests to desert-like low lands and then up again to the alpines. The 190km route consisted of places that only receive rain four to five times a year to those that expect rain all monsoon, constantly.

The weather was capricious, the terrain constantly changed and villages we could take shelter in were few and far between. As we trudged on, exhausted, we couldn’t help but admire the fitness of the locals who had to make such journeys regularly. A sense of emptiness also loomed. We kept our spirits up by stopping to admire the view and tell ourselves to  how lucky we were yet in our hearts we knew that our appreciation and admiration were superficial because we hardly knew the realities of living here. This was a land of undeniable beauty but also of great hardship and uncertainty, this much was clear. Our praises for the splendor of this place rang hollow as in our hearts we knew that this feeling was an indulgence limited to short time visitors like us. In the villages, sanitation and health were the main concern, while schools were sparse and at times ineffectual, and access to goods and services, especially medicine, was limited.  

As we reached Khaptad National Park there was another abrupt change in the terrain as vast rolling hills appeared along with meadows covered by lush green grass and alpine wild flowers. This trek in the monsoon along the Karnali region opened my eyes to many things and I am grateful to have experienced it. In the future, I hope to see the upliftment of the people there, perhaps by they themselves taking agency and benefitting from the preservation of national parks by developing a viable tourism economy to supplement their agrarian lifestyle.

A small stream outlet for the water in Rara Lake.

Karnali river as it intersects through Mugu and Bajura district.

The only access to some villages.

View of nearby hills from Jhingrana

Goats used to transport rice to Mugu.

One of the medows in Khaptad National Park.

A village in the banks of Karnali.

Star gazing at Rara Lake.

Monsoon clouds play with the sun and the early morning rays touch the forest at Rara Lake.