An exciting event on the trail were the yaks. They were all over. Sometimes we would see them grazing in the grass. But most often we would see trains of yak going up and down the mountains. When they walked up they carried loads from potatoes to Pringles, restocking the upper tea houses. As they walked down the mountains they had empty crates tied to their sides.
One yak was trailing behind his herd. We could hear him grunting as he struggled up the path, his tongue was hanging out if his mouth. He was having a hard time. Ron (who Hari always called Papa) said he understood how that yak felt and dubbed him Papa Yak. I still laugh when I think of that tired yak.
Whenever the yaks came we squeezed off to the mountainside of the trail so we weren't in their way and so they couldn't push us off the mountain. When I was sick, I would sit down and Matt would stand in front of me with the walking pole. If they started walking too close he would shake the pole at them and yell. He herded them away from me! Sometimes he could even get them to start jogging up the hill!
First the horses in Mongolia and now the yaks in Nepal. My husband really has a way with animals. We may need to consider some alternative careers...
