Another holiday

September 28. Back to noisy, smelly and incredibly wet Kathmandu. Dashain shopping frenzy brought traffic to a standstill on Monday so we walked the 70 minutes from VSO to the guest house in pouring rain. There is a new subeditor on The Himalayan Times, with pre-holiday front page headlines of ‘cops fleece sheep traders’ ‘water talks flow’ ‘ spirited drive against excess alcohol’. Three days of workshops with continual talk and VSO socialising left us exhausted, so we enjoyed a weekend relaxing at the Manaslu pool and a day with Colin and Ellen, friends from VSO Ethiopia, now working in Kathmandu for 6 months.
After successfully renewing our Indian visas, with great relief at never having to spend a tedious day queuing and being interrogated again, we started our holiday at 7am on October 7, when Himal arrived with a car to take us to the Seti River. We reached Damauli at 11am. The raft arrived at 1pm and the ‘chief rafter’ with life jackets arrived soon after 4pm. We were happy to get onto the river, in an overladen raft with a young Swedish couple and 2 Nepalis who seemed to know what they were doing. The river was very high after so much rain, so we sped along without much paddling, bouncing through rapids and white water until we pulled onto a sandbank as the sun was setting. We managed to get tents up before it was completely dark, surrounded by curious children, who had come down to the river to play and swim. A vast quantity of dal bhat was cooked over an open fire on the beach and we crawled into our tents at 8pm and fell asleep to the sound of the river. Woken early by the return of the children, walked along the beach covered in perfectly round pebbles glistening with mica and water. The morning’s rafting was beautiful, through deep wooded valleys with brilliant malachite kingfishers darting into the waves. Some BIG rapids, where we were all in danger of falling out and it was impossible to obey Sala’s shouts of “faster, faster” in our attempts to hang on. Himal met us at the end and we drove to Pokhara and the lovely Sacred Valley guest house. A terrifying storm in the mountains knocked out the electricity and we had a wet and chilly dinner. Fortunately it was calm and clear, if dark, when we arrived at the airport at 5.30am the next morning. The airport gates were firmly padlocked, and we joined some elderly Tibetans hopefully twiddling their prayer beads waiting outside. Eventually the gates were opened and by 6.20 we were airborne in a tiny plane flying below the Annapurnas with spectacular views of wooded hills and valleys and snowy peaks above. Breakfast in the cold early morning air of Jomson, looking at the mountains. A gentle 2 hour walk along the Kali Ghandaki river bed brought us to the ancient settlement of Kagbeni. Inevitably, we met some VSOs on the way, descending from Muktinath, the destination of many Indian and Nepali pilgrims. The landscape is stark and arid, with huge sandy mountains towering above the river, and green cultivated land below. Having left our bags at the friendly Paradise guest house, we walked up stony paths through small fields of barley and maize, grazing horses and mules, apple orchards dripping with fruit from golden to green and crimson. We ate our first hearty trekker’s lunch at the guest house rather than the Germ In Bakery, then Himal helped us gain access to the monastery where 9 Buddhist monks are living. The ancient Buddhas, masks, wall paintings and other decorations were beautiful, dimly lit by butter lamps. David was allowed upstairs to a special ceremony, where traditional musical instruments and chanting from Tibetan scriptures was in process. A huge rough mud wall led into the ancient walled city, at first apparently deserted, but gradually people emerged from behind old wooden doors and windows, animals stamped and snorted, munching their fodder behind closed doors; other animals were out grazing before being brought in for the night. Huge yaks, tiny dzopas, mules and ponies, furry dogs stretched out in the sun, children playing with home made toys. Splendid architecture, with characteristic Mustang red ochre, black and cream paint, prayer walls, wheels and flags at every turn.
The next day we walked down the valley to Marpha, the ‘apple capital’ of Nepal. Solid white painted stone houses, roofs piled with wood ready for the winter. A vicious wind starts at about 10am every morning, whipping up the dust, but the sky was brilliant blue with huge peaks of the Nilgiris all around. A comfortable lodge featuring apple cake, apple pie, apple crumble, apple fritters, apple pancakes, apple jam, apple momos, apple cider, apple brandy – and even apples. Delicious. The next day we continued mostly downhill through pretty villages to a ‘luxury’ lodge at Kalopani, with splendid views of Dhaulgiri and the Annapurna range. Our final very long and blistering walk took us to the hot springs of Tatopani. There is allegedly now a ‘road’ from Pokhara to Jomson, which will bring access to markets for the farmers, but have a negative effect on tourist lodges. In reality, there is a dirt track, frequently washed down the mountainside by monsoon landslides. We had been assured we could pick up transport back to Beni, and the next morning we found a dilapidated bus and climbed aboard for a nerve-wracking 3 hour journey. The ‘road’ runs along the edge of the Kali Ghandaki, the deepest gorge in the world. I had the misfortune to be sitting ‘gorge side’ and for most of the way there was no firm land visible from my side of the bus, just sheer jungled slopes down to the swirling waters far below. The Nepalis soon started shouting “plastic, plastic” – a request for bags to be sick into. At one point we all left the bus as the track was too narrow for all 4 wheels at once, but it hopped swiftly across on three wheels, luggage swaying precariously on the roof. Eventually we arrived back safely in Beni, where we got a taxi that hurtled us round the hairpins back to the calm serenity of the Sacred Valley in Pokhara, where we found Colin and Ellen having tea and cakes. A relaxing day, before the long bus journey back to the traffic of Kathmandu, where we caught up with work, said goodbye to Purna the Education Manager who moves to London in December and a had a final delicious supper with friends before returning home.
October 17. Biratnagar. Eastern Terai at standstill with banda that has already lasted 3 days. Managed to get ourselves and all our stuff into 2 rickshaws for an extortionate price. Karna was working on our terrace, as Chhatra and Tara were upstairs and many people downstairs. No water. No electricity. Flat bike tyres. Our bicycle repair man couldn’t pump them up because he had toothache – “come back in 2 days”, so we borrowed the pump and did them ourselves. First oranges of the season in the market, but no cheese.