NEPAL

Make a fresh pot of coffee, unplug the telephone and hold onto your hats, blog fans, this one’s a bit of a whopper…

Mt. Everest from our plane!

We arrived in sunny Kathmandu at lunchtime on Sunday 1^st November. and, after a reasonably lengthy visa queue, were met at the airport by a chap called Sailendra, who is the boyfriend of Flutie, a girl I used to work with in the Bollinger Tent at the Open Golf. He sorted out a taxi (at local prices!) and we were soon in Thamel, the tourist district of Kathmandu.

We looked around a bit for a hotel to gauge prices and what was available, and ended up in the ‘Classic Downtown’, where an en-suite double room cost 250 rupees - a little over £2. After a quick walk around town, Sailendra took us down a dodgy alley to a local restaurant for a traditional Dal Baht meal - lots of rice, veggie curry, potato curry, pickles etc… (and chicken on the side for normal people). At 90 rupees (about 75p) it was quite a bargain, especially after we discovered it came with free refills!

Going with the traditional feel of the meal, we tried to eat the meal only with our right hand (no cutlery) - we eventually succeeded, but took rather a while longer and made ever so slightly more mess than our native host! It’s considered terrible manners to use the left hand to eat with in Nepal. The left hand is reserved for something that happens rather suddenly after the consumption of a double portion of Dal Baht. Better an empty house than a bad tenant.

After lunch, we were taken on a brief sightseeing tour of Kathmandu - lots of old buildings and stuff, and the beautiful Durbar Square, where there were loads of temples and things like that.

The streets of Kathmandu are lined with shop upon shop and stall upon stall of almost exactly the same stuff - books, trekking gear, yak wool blankets, t-shirts and handbags - all very colourful indeed, but hard to imagine how they all make a living. We picked up a trekking book which also had a guide to Kathmandu and set about trying to plan the following month. The evening was spent at Tom and Jerry’s Pub, where Sailendra and I went undefeated as a pool team for most of the evening.

We met a few Aussies in the pub (surprise surprise!) who’d just completed the trek that we were thinking about doing - they heartily recommended it, and so our minds were made up - the Annapurna Circuit was to be our trek of choice. After another curry (getting the guts in training for the next few weeks), we retired to our guesthouse for the night.

“The water in Kathmandu harbours seven times the recommended amount of feacal matter”, is not a phrase you particularly want to hear when the water in question is streaming down your face and body. But that’s exactly what Lauren shouted to me as I took a tepid shower the following morning. As I leapt out and towelled the poo from my face I made a mental note - always read the guidebook before taking a shower.

Sailendra had to head back to Pokhara, a town about seven hours away by bus, so Lauren and I got down to the hard task of breakfast, followed by planning our trek. We read a bit of the guide book and ummed and ahhed about whether to hire a porter-guide for our trip. In the end, we came to the conclusion that we ought to - not only because he’d show us the way, but also because we basically didn’t want to have to carry our bags. So we went to a company recommended by Sailendra, and hired a chap for $15 a day. For the money he’d carry up to 25 kilograms of our stuff (not sure in lb’s and ounces, Dad) and show us the way. Upon booking him, we were given a rather lengthy list of stuff we’d need for the trek. And all Andrew said I needed was a pair of trainers and a jersey.

The Annapurna Circuit stretches some 300 kms, lasts eighteen days and reaches a height of 5416 metres. Were we prepared for this? No. So the next day was frantically spent scouring the streets of Kathmandu for stuff that would make us look like well equipped experienced trekkers. Thermals, socks, fleeces, hats and gloves were all snapped up at rock-bottom prices, as well as an XL sized jacket (found in a sale box) and a -10 degrees sleeping sack in a rather tasty shade of lime. I was slightly concerned about the state of my walking boots (purchased from a hooky stall in Vietnam some months previously), but the woman who had sold them to me told me that they were ‘top quality’, so I was generally confident they’d survive the trek, despite the fact that they were mainly (and rather cleverly) held together by superglue and matchsticks. Finally, at about eight o’clock the night before we were due to leave, we had everything sorted.

The next morning, we avoided the poo-shower and met our porter-guide, Bobin, outside our hotel at 06.15. The first leg of our trek was to get to the start. This involved getting a taxi to the bus station, and then a bus to a town called Besisahar, about seven hours away from Kathmandu. The bus journey, in keeping with the majority of our bus journeys so far, was an experience in itself. The Nepalese certainly don’t believe in wasting any space, so when we finally left Kathmandu, the bus packed with over thirty people, about twenty-five stools (not of the shower variety) and enough electrical cable to light up Oxford Street at Christmas! On the roof of the bus were all our bags as well as box upon box of books for the school at our destination.

The journey was a fairly uncomfortable and very nerve-wracking eight hours, including two stops to pick things up which had fallen off the roof (nothing of ours fortunately) and one stop to top up on Dal Baht. I was convinced that the bus was either going to fall off the winding mountain roads - or topple over from being too top heavy - more than once during the journey, but thankfully we made it to the start in one piece, and commenced the trek.

As it was fairly late in the afternoon by now, we only had a short three-hour walk to the village we were staying in. The only noticeable thing about the walk being that there was a dying cow in the middle of the path about five minutes after we’d started - whilst Lauren was trying to think of a way to help it, all I could think about was the steak. We arrived at a tea house in Bhulebule early in the evening and got a taste of what was to come for the next eighteen days accommodation-wise: cold showers, fairly firm beds in small rooms and more Dal Baht.

I could go through the eighteen days explaining that, ‘today we walked for seven hours from A to B’, but it probably wouldn’t be very exciting to read, so I’ll just pick out bits and pieces in a vague chronological order and see how it goes!

Our days would usually start with a knock on our door from Bobin at roughly 06.30 or 07.00, followed by a breakfast of porridge and a cup of tea. We’d then set off walking at about 08.00, and go for a good three and a half hours, maybe including a short tea stop, before stopping at a restaurant along the way for some lunch at around about 11.30.

The lunch break would last about an hour, then we’d all set off again for another three hours, before arriving at the village we’d stay for the night, and finding a good tea house. The tea houses were mainly very small family run places with about four or five rooms and a small restaurant attached. After finishing our evening meal, usually by about 6.30, the main thing to do, due to a lack of electricity, was usually to go to bed! As mentioned, the accommodation was fairly basic, but very pleasant.

No heating or anything like that, so we’d all huddle around the fire in the kitchen when it started getting chilly (basically as soon as the sun went down at around four in the afternoon).

Money wise, accommodation for the night would usually cost between 200-300 rupees (about £2.50), and meals about half that, so pretty cheap. Although trekking independently, we made chums with a couple of Kiwi girls, Jen and Sal, who were on the same bus as us from Kathmandu and sorted out that we’d try and stay in the same guesthouses most nights for some company - an arrangement which worked very well indeed - especially as they had small appetites and a tendency to order large meals which then got passed straight onto me!

The first few days of the trek were fairly easy - the temperature was perfect during the day - a sunny twenty degrees, but it did get rather cold at night, and we were glad to have invested in our sleeping bags.

Walking-wise, the track wasn’t too steep, and by the end of the fourth day, we’d gone from an altitude of 840 metres to 2670 metres in a village called Chame.

As you’d expect, the scenery was amazing along the route, and we’d made some pretty good progress despite spending large chunks of time stuck behind packs of mules or herds of sheep!

VIDEO CLIP BELOW, DAD.

A part of the day to especially look forward to was arriving at the villages and having a wander around before it got too cold and dark. The local children were fascinated by us westerners, and always ran up to us wanting to play games and check whether we had any chocolate, pens or balloons for them! I had a set of juggling balls with me, and that kept most of them particularly well entertained!

After the first few days, things started to get a little more serious, and we were advised to read the section in our book called ‘Altitude Sickness’, which can apparently strike when you get much above 3,500 metres. At the back of our minds, we were both thinking about the impending ‘Thorung La Pass’ which is the highest and most dangerous point of the trek at 5416 metres. An average of two people die every year on this pass - but we didn’t have to worry about that for another few days. The weather was still bright and sunny all day long, and although now fairly cold both day and night, we were having a great time.

On the seventh day of the trek, we found ourselves walking through fields and fields of wild marijuana before arriving at a small town called Manang, at 3540 metres.

This is where trekkers spend two days so that bodies can acclimatise to the altitude. Indeed, such was the threat of altitude sickness on the trek, that all trekkers were strongly advised to visit the local medical centre, when a talk about altitude sickness is given every afternoon. The things to look out for were headaches, nausea and puking - leading me to believe that many of my mornings at Southampton University must have been spent at high altitude. Other advice given to us by the locals was to eat a lot of garlic soup - apparently very good in preventing getting ill.

Whilst in Manang, we paid a visit to what must what be the highest cinema in the world.

I say cinema, but it was more like someone’s shed that had been converted (luckily with a yak dung-burning stove). It was great fun, and the film was even paused half way through so that we could be given free tea and popcorn! The choice of film, however, was controversial - we watched ‘Into Thin Air’, a film based on the true story of fourteen people being killed trying to climb (or descend from the summit of) Mount Everest in 1996. Nothing like that to take our minds off the Thorung La Pass, now only three days away!

From Manang, we trekked to a town called Yakarka, at 4018 metres, and this was where things started to get a little sticky. A few clouds had formed during the trek, and this had led to some light harmless snow falling whilst we were walking.

When we were woken the next morning, however, there was a couple of feet of settled snow, with no sign of respite. After waking us, Bobin told us that it was too dangerous to go on, for fear of landslides, avalanches, hurting ourselves etc… This was backed up by our guidebook which read, ‘Under no circumstances should you proceed towards the Thorung La Pass in bad weather condition, and never attempt the actual pass in the snow…people die…blah blah blah’.

Although annoyed at our misfortune with the weather, we agreed that turning back was the only safest option - especially as the sky was black and the snow was dumping it down. This given, we were then, understandably, a little alarmed when twenty-five minutes later, Bobin returned saying that actually it would be no problem, and we’d press on!

“Later the weather will be killer”, he said rather unsettlingly.

“What?!”, I said in exasperation.

“The weather will be killer later - no more clouds”, he explained.

It then dawned on me that he couldn’t pronounce the word ‘clear’ and pronounced it ‘killer’ instead. Perhaps good portents for the battle ahead? I doubted it, and I was beginning to doubt our porter-guide’s judgement about how something could go from being a death-trap to being safe as houses in 25 minutes! So it was with stiff upper lips that we laced up our boots - which had, having been wet the night before, frozen solid in our room overnight - and plodded on our way through the deep snow.

The planned destination for the day was Thorung Phedi, at 4,450 metres, and we reached there by about two in the afternoon, after a good six hour trek. Thorung Phedi is the final village before the dreaded Thorung La Pass, and by the time we arrived we were knackered, very cold and my feet were sopping. It turns out that matchsticks and glue are no match for water and snow. I was sure frostbite was about to claim me. Bobin, however, was full of beans, and decided that we’d press on even further, to a place called ‘High Camp’ - at 5,350 metres. “Bugger”, I thought, whilst consoling myself with a Mars Bar, which had the consistency of concrete due to the temperature.

High Camp was basically a building and some rooms about 900 metres straight ‘up’. At 4,500 metres this would have been difficult enough, but at that altitude and with slippery snow and ice, it was a real pain in the arse! It took us a good hour and a half, but we made it, and still without any of the signs of altitude sickness, plus the weather was indeed ‘killering’. As I took my sopping boots to the stove to get them dry, I was starting to believe that we’d actually make it over the pass tomorrow, and that things weren’t all that bad. The stove, as it turned out, was broken. “Bugger”, I thought again, especially given that I’d already had my Mars Bar for the day.

At High Camp, things were a rather chilly -10 degrees. Using a squat-loo in normal conditions is quite a challenge (when the job in hand requires a squat, that is) ; using one when the floor is sheet ice is exceedingly dangerous! One false step and you could slide right in! Yes, the loo had frozen solid and, as mentioned, the stove was kaput, meaning our boots weren’t going to dry, but were going to freeze instead. On top of this, we had a 04.30 start the next morning to contemplate - meaning a couple of hours of trekking in the dark before sunrise - perfect in snowy, slippery conditions! With all this to think about, we decided to call it an early night, and retired to our room. I went to bed wearing nearly every article of clothing from my bag, and we had to keep our water bottles in our sleeping bags to stop them freezing solid! Without a shadow of doubt, this was the coldest night of my life!

The 04.30 knock on the door was quite a relief, as it meant that I had survived the night. We strapped on our boots - again frozen solid - and after an inadequate bowl of porridge and a cup of tea, headed off into the dark towards the Thorung La Pass. The weather was again pretty sketchy - strong winds and snow, and my mind kept wandering back to the paragraph in the guidebook about not attempting the Pass in bad weather! After half an hour walking, our water bottles were already frozen!

As dawn slowly broke, the fact that we were actually able to see where we were going made things slightly better, and spirits were lifting. After a solid few of hours trekking uphill in the snow, the Pass was within our sights. “Just fifteen more minutes”, Bobin yelled through the howling wind and snow, but I was dead on my feet, and could see that the remaining fifteen minutes to the pass were fairly vertical. Unsure whether my judgement was being impaired by altitude sickness, I had a tough, tough decision to make at this point, and it was a decision that was to have serious effects and an immediate impact. As I fumbled with the wrapper, I couldn’t help but think that the decision I’d made - to eat my only Mars Bar at 08.25 in the morning - was sheer folly. It turned out, however, to be a stroke of genius, and shortly after consumption, I was bounding my way to the top.

The feeling of being up there, at 5416 metres, was absolutely fantastic, and I think that the fact we’d done it through heavy snow made it feel double the achievement. After a much deserved cup of tea, we posed for a few photos at the top, but trekkers are warned against spending much longer than half an hour up there because of the cold and altitude sickness - of which Lauren was beginning to show some mild signs - so we carried on our way over the Pass and started to make our way down the other side.

So, after eleven days, we’d gotten over the Pass, and were heading downhill at last - but the new problem was the hill we were heading down was far too steep! We descended just over 1.5 kms in just over two hours, in some pretty icy conditions - fairly tough on the old knees which were very sore indeed when we finally made in to Muktinath, the first stop after the pass. It was in Muktinath that we had our first hot shower for a long, long time! It was also in Muktinath where we were taken to a temple at six in the morning by a very religious Bobin, so we could watch him pray - another of the coldest moments of my life!

It was quite a spectacular place though, as well as being a temple of great importance to those of Hindu faith - apparently meaning they had to strip down to their pants and run through fountains and pools of virtually freezing water in virtually freezing temperatures! Insanity!

The remaining seven days of the trek were a far more relaxing affair than the previous seven! Without the threat of altitude sickness, we could lay off the garlic soup and start laying into the Everest Beer! Although easier, the distances we covered during the remainder of the trek were larger, but included some of the most memorable places on the whole route.

Kagbeni - a really old cobbled village where the livestock run through the streets and the way of life is pretty medieval!

The hot springs of Tatopani were also a great treat after seventeen days - huge baths of naturally hot water were just the job for our aching muscles. Marpha, the ‘Apple Capital of Nepal’ where the local apple brandy was certainly something to be reckoned with - I could have done with a hip-flask of the stuff whilst attempting the Thorung La Pass!

There was also Rupse Chhahara, a tiny village with a magnificent waterfall, and great little café with a beautiful garden. We noticed a funny smell lingering around the garden, and that one of the guys who worked in the restaurant seemed to be smoking something. Upon closer inspection, it turned out that the restaurant was bordered by a field of wild marijuana, and that there was a ‘pick your own’ policy being operated at no cost! Personally, I had no idea about what was going on, but after being informed by Lauren about happenings, carrying on underneath my very nose, I was outraged.

Finally, after a slight diversion uphill again to a viewpoint called Poon Hill (at 3193 metres), which boasted spectacular views of the Himalayas, we were at the end.

We both massively enjoyed the trek, but as we got on our bus to Pokhara, where we were planning to relax for a few days after the trek, all we could think about was a hot shower and comfortable bed!

Pokhara was a perfect place to slow down again after the three weeks of hectic exercise - loads of restaurants, bars and gardens overlooking a beautiful lake.

A special mention should go to the Everest Steakhouse, where Lauren and I met up with kiwi’s Jen and Sal for a post-trek feast. The steaks were absolutely massive and very, very tasty - as, I gather, was Lauren’s vegetarian lasagne. All washed down with a great deal of Everest Beer, it was a great way to end the trek in style.

After a couple more days relaxing in Pokhara, we caught the bus back to Kathmandu, where we still had a couple of days to burn before flying out to India. Still feeling the effects of all that hard work, much of the time here was spent also relaxing. We both sampled some traditional Tibetan beer which, to be honest, was well rank.

We also paid a visit to the Kathmandu branch of the Everest Steakhouse so that I could stock up my guts with enough red meat to last the next month and a half in India, where, I am led to believe, the meat is a bit of a no-no.

So, on Monday, 30^th November, we headed to the airport to get a flight to Delhi. We both hugely enjoyed Nepal - certainly one of the best places we have been so far! The relaxed atmosphere of Pokhara, the hustle and bustle of Kathmandu, the beautiful scenery and wonderful hospitality shown by the friendly locals on the trek made it absolutely fantastic - somewhere we’d recommend you get on a plane to as soon as you can!