Above, the sky was a cloudless royal blue. The crisp air was perfectly still. “More stupas,” Thule announced, pointing out the side window. “There . . . and there. You see.” “We do,” Sam replied, he and Remi glancing out Sam’s rolled-down window. Shortly after leaving Jomsom that morning, they’d made the mistake of expressing an interest in chortens; since then, Thule had made it his mission to point out each and every one. They’d covered less than two miles so far. For politeness’s sake, Sam and Remi climbed out, walked around, and took a few pictures. While none of the chortens were taller than a few feet, they were nonetheless impressive—miniature temples painted snow-white sitting atop the ridge lines overlooking the gorge like silent sentries. They climbed back into the Toyota and set out again, driving in silence for some time before Remi said, “Where’s the landslide?” There was a long pause. “We passed it some time ago,” Thule replied. “Where?”
