Back in 2015, I set out to conquer a small section of the Himalayas. Five years ago today we left Kathmandu to Pokhara, gateway to the Annapurna’s. These are the notes from that trip.
When I used to think of Nepal, it conjured up imagery of mountains, saffron clad monks, prayer flags and enough spirituality to choke a hippy. To some extent it lived up to this Tibetan-like view, but it is also so much more than that. I must admit I didn’t know much about Nepal before I left other than my desire to go there, so when one of my work colleagues at the time suggested a trip, I was quick to put my hand up and volunteer. I was working as an Assistant House Master and PE Assistant at a school when Rick sent the email to the staff for a two-week trip to Nepal, trekking the Annapurna region of the Himalayas the following year. My position at the school was uncertain at that time and with no idea what I would be doing by then, booking the trip would be a risky move. With that in mind and a trip of a lifetime at stake, I went ahead and signed up. As it turned out, I left the school and without knowing when I would see them all again it would be a nice reunion with some of them. Representing the reunion on the trip was Assistant Housemaster George, physics teacher Ted, maths teacher Heather and English teacher Matt. Also joining the party was Sam who I had known since his birth and his dad was the Head Teacher that hired me. I got on really well with Sam so it was going to be a banterful trip. His girlfriend Lana (now wife) was also going to tag along as a third wheel. I was flying out with Sam and Lana and we decided to book flights to arrive a day before and leave a day after the organised trip dates so we could spend more time exploring. I nearly pushed my flight back another day for even more exploring and to fly back with George and some of the others. It was pointed out to me that I should probably return to work.
Day 1 – England to Muscat
It was the day I had waited a year for and not have been more excited about it. I had not died and was going to Nepal! The bags were packed (at the last possible minute), the gym was visited, all electronics were charged and a taxi (the mother) was booked to take me to the station. It was an evening flight so I had plenty of time to faff around before I had to leave. It took longer than intended to get to the airport on the Rail Air bus from Reading due to traffic being very inconsiderate but I got there eventually. Sam and Lana had already checked their bags in by the time I arrived and without as much time as we had hoped for catch-up drinks, we went straight through security to the boarding gate. We were flying with Oman Air so our connecting flight was going to be from Muscat. Like all Middle Eastern airlines I have flown with, Oman Air was brilliant. If nothing else the entertainment system was filled with enough films and tv shows to keep me entertained for both flights, there and back. More than could be said for the American Airlines system I had to endure five weeks earlier.
Day 2 – Muscat to Kathmandu
I was the only one who stayed awake during the overnight flight and many films were watched. From the seats on the plane we decided it looked warm outside as we approached Muscat which was confirmed when we landed and walked from the plane to a bus that would shuttle us to the terminal. After a short walk around the limited options of time-wasting shops, we settled in the Oman version of Starbucks for breakfast. In hindsight we probably should have known that was a bad idea because it cost the equivalent of roughly £37 for a couple of pancakes, two paninis, two coffees and a milkshake. The airport also doesn’t make getting on the free 15 Minute WIFI easy to check the exchange rate to confirm we were being ripped off. Wallets thoroughly violated, we headed to the gate. Here we experienced something very peculiar. Something none of us had never witnessed before. Racism. As we were queuing at the gate to get the bus to our next plane and all the business class passengers had gone through, all the white people were picked out from the line and ushered to the front ahead of all the Nepalese who had clearly arrived before us. We felt very embarrassed and didn’t want to move from the queue but they staff were very insistent. Not cool Muscat Airport. Not cool.
The second flight was just as painless as the first and gave me another 6 hours to watch more films. We did cause a bit confusion because the air stewards didn’t believe we had ordered the Hindu meal and thought it was a mix up. I bet it was because we were white. Sam and I watched The Inbetweeners 2 film off his iPad towards the end. About an hour before we landed in Kathmandu, snow-capped mountains started to appear above the clouds and they were huge. A vast wall of rock that the plane followed until we landed. We presumed them to be the Himalayas. It was only after we landed that I forgot to bring spare passport photos for the entry vis. Luckily someone had the bright idea to install and electric visa application stations to accommodate plebs like me. Words can’t describe just how ghastly the photo the machine took of me was. In my defence it was after an overnight long hall flight with no sleep that made me look like someone who had just been dug up. It took ages to get through customs and as standard we chose the line where one of the two customs officers disappeared for 45 minutes. We eventually made it out the airport and the culture shock was beyond immediate. Straight away your senses get bombarded with the heat, the sounds, the smells, the colours and then you get bombarded by the people who are trying to sell you things or get you in their taxi. We had our transport organised for us. We were greeted by Lin, Rick’s wife, and two of our Sherpas, Binoy Rai and Kalyan. Binoy was an old friend of Ricks and was the man who organised all our equipment, campsites and porter team that would be getting us to the peak and back. Little did we know at that time just how much he deserved a medal. They had been waiting a while so after a quick loo break and being presented with a marigold garland each, it was off through the chaos to our hotel. It was the Hindu god Rama’s birthday on the day we arrived so the streets were busier than usual with parades.
We were staying in the Kathmandu Guest House in the Thamel area of Kathmandu which is the main tourist hub filled with trekking equipment shops, souvenir shops, bars and restaurants. The Kathmandu Guest House is a small sanctuary amidst the relentless hustle and bustle of the world outside. Established in 1967, it has been visited by the like of The Beatles, Jeremy Irons and Ricky Martin to name but a few note worthy names. It was an amazing place set far back from the road allowing those in the garden to enjoy peace and quiet, forgetting you are in one of the most densely populated cities on earth. There was an on-site restaurant, bureau de change and scattered around are replica relics from the National Museum with information plaques. After checking in and being shown our rooms we took a bit of time to make ourselves look human again. The rooms were simple but clean. The only thing I would have changed in mine was the design of the bathroom, which unless you got a bit creative with the shower curtain would leave everything soaked. My room was on the ground floor and looked on to the gardens which I enjoyed. I was going to be sharing my room with George, but he didn’t arrive till the following day. Sam and Lana were above us.
We met up in the restaurant with Lin, Binoy and Kalyan. Rick joined us later after he had finished seeing old friends. He had to make the most of his time back in Kathmandu as he didn’t do it as often as I think he would have liked. It was great to see Rick again and catch up. We spent most of the night talking and drinking Everest Beer but it soon became time for grandpa Sam and nana Lana to go to bed. I stayed up with Rick and Lin for a bit until it was time for Rick to spend some of his valuable time with other friends he was yet to see. I decided to follow him out of the sanctuary of the Guest House to his taxi before spending some time exploring the streets around the looking at night market stalls, shops and bars. This didn’t last long after I realised I was tired and the tour of Kathmandu could continue tomorrow.
Day 3 – Kathmandu
I met up with Sam and Lana at breakfast. We looked at the guidebook and talked about what we wanted to see, what we should see and the order in which to do it. Because Sam was here there was no way this was not going to be the most organised and most efficient trip of Kathmandu. Sam doesn’t mess around. After a few suggestions from Ricky and Lin we were set to go. And that we did.
First on the Itinerary was Durbar Square. Durbar, meaning palace, is where the kings of the old Kingdom were crowned, legitimised and from where they ruled. It was a twenty-minute walk from the Guest House to the square, or would have been if we walked straight there and didn’t get distracted by everything. We talked to a local guy studying at Kathmandu University who wanted to practice his English, poked our heads into various shops all selling pretty much the same things and walked down side streets that looked interesting. One of these side streets had a s small version of the Swayambhunath Temple in the middle of a small square at the end of it. A group of men appeared to be having a party boiling something with a goat tied up close by in a manner to suggest to party hadn’t started yet. At the entrance to Durbar Square was a ticket office that didn’t look all that legitimate. That along with very pushy tour guides made us head back around to find another route in. As it transpires, there are many, all with ticket huts and pushy tour guides. Their main selling points for their services were laminated ID badges to prove they were the real deal and for a two-hour tour you could pay as much as you thought it was worth. In my mind, this way of transacting is always asking for trouble. We declined the offers for tour guides so we could wonder round at the pace Sam thought was most efficient and read what the Lonely Planet had to say about the various buildings, palaces and temples. If I were to return to the Durbar square with less of a shoestring backpacker mentality, I would be tempted to take up the offer of a guide. With the state of some of the building you could see why you have to pay a small fortune for the entrance fee which contributes to the maintenance and up keep of temples and palaces way beyond their prime. We presumed because it was Lord Rama’s birthday the day before, it explained why the place was heaving with open fires everywhere, rouge cows wondering around, incense sticks on everything and a mass crowd looking busy in front of a large painting of, we presumed, Lord Rama. He was on the wall of a shrine with a large wooden chariot in front of it with what looked to be a Christmas tree on top. If we had a guide, they probably could have explained this to us.
The square also provided us with an experience only this place could give you. Along with a French tour group we walked into the courtyard of the house of the Living Goddess and caught a glimpse of the girl in question. The Kumari (living goddess) is a girl aged between 4-7 from the Sakya community who will have passed a selection process based on their 32 attributes of perfection. These include but aren’t limited to eye colour, shape of teeth and voice quality. She will be worshipped by Hindus and Buddhists and during her time as goddess she will never directly touch the ground. Her time as the living goddess will end with her first menstruation because it is believed that on reaching puberty the Kumari turns human. Strangely, even a minor cut or bleed can render her invalid for worship and the search for a new goddess has to begin again. I didn’t know what to expect from the square. It did have lots of interesting architecture and a unique atmosphere sense of history, but it was smaller than I thought it was going to be and was on the verge of crumbling down. After seeing all that the Kathmandu Durbar Square had to offer and buying a folding metal lotus flower it was time to move on.
When talking to the university student earlier he pointed us in the direction of a monkey temple which was conveniently in the same direction as Swayambhunath, our next stop. A forty-minute walk later it became evidently clear that they were the same thing. A UNESCO World Heritage Site, Swayambhunath (don’t worry, I can’t pronounce it either) is an ancient religious complex on top of a hill west of Kathmandu city. It is also known as the monkey temple because of the holy monkeys living on the north-western parts of it. To get to the top of the temple could be classed as a warm up for the trek. There are 365 that separate the bottom from the top and get gradually steeper the higher you go. While walking up we were followed by a souvenir seller for at least 200 steps trying to sell me a singing bowl. He had just started out in the souvenir game and I was going to be his first ever customer and it would bring him good luck. Not one to pass on an amazing coincidence like that I finally caved and bought it for a massively discounted price. The good luck was free. At the top was a great view of Kathmandu and you could really see just how far it sprawls out, covering pretty much the entire valley. While not the biggest stupa in Nepal it was still an impressive site with two towers flanking the main structure, which had the eyes of Buddha facing in all four directions. It was the fantastic number of puppies stumbling around that nearly stole the show though.
After walking around, spinning prayer wheels and standing on rooftops taking selfies with Sam we started heading down the far side of the hill back towards the city. I was fully aware I was new to a country that used prayer flags but I had never seen so many in one place before. Not even on TV. There were so many they blocked out the sky. To this day we are still not sure how they managed to span a small valley with many massive chains of them. Next to the “Monkey Swimming Pool” was a wishing well with loads of people trying to throw coins into a small bowl in the middle of it. This is what we presumed it was at least. Mine ricocheted off the rim, Sam missed completely and after watching a slow-motion replay back on one of our cameras it was confirmed that Lana got hers in.
We negotiated a taxi and returned to the centre for lunch. Miraculously we made it to the end of that car journey in one piece considering the lack of any recognisable order or rules on the road. We got dropped off at the royal palace but decided that we needed lunch first. We found a rooftop restaurant which became a definite winner after we found momos on the menu. The unofficial national dish of Nepal, these little dumplings filled with either meat or veg are the quintessential taste of the Himalayas and secretly the reason I came to Nepal in the first place. We ordered a plate of chicken, vegetable and “buff” momos. These were buffalo meat, not just really manly ones. The waiter came back later with the drinks and to say the vegetable ones were not up to scratch. Nice enough for them to tell us rather than just use us to get rid of them. The other ones wee everything I wanted them to be at least.
The Royal Palace is a massive building in a massive complex and was a bit of a time warp back to the 60s. The palace was also the location for one of Nepal’s darkest moments when Crown Prince Dipendra massacred nine members of the royal family, including his parents the king and queen, on June 1st 2001. He was eventually shot by security forces and ended up in a coma in hospital. Strangely, while in this state they crowned him king until he died of his wounds a couple of days later. They demolished the building where this happened out of respect but bullet holes still remain in the walls of some of the neighbouring buildings.
After that sombre end to our palace visit, it was on to our final stop of the day, The Garden of Dreams to sooth the soul. Kathmandu is a full-on assault course that can leave you feeling violated if you spend too much time in the glorious chaos. Considering its proximity to the maid road, the gardens were very tranquil. Built in neo-classical style in 1920 for Marshal Kaiser Sumsher Rana, it was considered one of the most sophisticated private gardens of the time. The gardens are separated into six different pavilions, each dedicated to one of the six seasons of Nepal. We could have stayed here for hours but all the bean bag chairs were taken and it looked like there was unfavourable weather gathering so we decided to return to the guest house.
Shortly after my return to the room I was joined by George. He had been out to do something similar to the walk I did last night. It was good to see him again and there was a lot to catch up on. Relaxing in the gardens were a few more familiar faces in the forms of Ted and Matt with their other halves. It was a quick catch up before heading to the restaurant for the full trekking party to gather in the same place for the first time. Adding to the names already mentioned to complete the team of 15 were Mandy (Matt’s wife), Denise (Ted’s partner), Lisa and Helen (friends of another teacher who worked at the school), Heather, Emily (daughter of one of the House Masters) and her friend Chris who we all though was her boyfriend at first. The gang was all here. I spent most of the evening catching up with the people I already knew rather than getting to know the ones I didn’t. There was going to be plenty of time for that. The problem about dining with so many people is not being able to talk to everyone and the food envy I experience any time I eat with anyone other than just myself. George ordered a garlic chicken curry which he proclaimed to be the best curry he ever had. After trying a bit, I wasn’t going to argue.
After dinner activities consisted of transferring everything we deemed important for the trek from our current bags to our brand new waterproof trekking bags with Blue Sage Trekking written on the side with their logo. The best bit was after the trip we got to keep them! By the time I worked out what I would be taking and what would be left behind in the Guest House storage room it was bed time. No late-night walk for me.
Day 4 – Kathmandu to Pokhara
After a quick breakfast and a once around the room to make sure neither myself or George had forgotten anything, we dropped one bag off at reception to await our return and our trekking on to a pick-up truck to be driven to our bus waiting just outside the Thamel area. We walked to the bus because the streets were too small to accommodate it.
Kathmandu is huge. That sentence alone is still a poor representation of just how long it took to get out of the city. Of course, the nightmarish traffic was a contributing factor. The Kathmandu Valley is the bowl of an extinct volcano and it was only as we started to climb out of it that you could really see and appreciate just how surrounded the place is by hills and how well it keeps the smog in. The views coming down the other side were incredible and incredibly dangerous with your classic sheer drop at the edge of the road or around a blind corner. Making matter even more interesting was the arrival of rain, making the already dodgy driving of the locals into an outrageous viewing spectacle for us cautious westerners. This was made very real when traffic was held up for a couple of hours because a tourist mini bus tried to overtake a public bus and collided head on with a lorry killing the driver and five Chinese tourists who had just finished their trek. By the time traffic had started moving again and we were passing the accident, the injured had been shipped off to hospital but those unlucky enough to not walk away from the crash were lined up by the side of the road and covered with whatever was to hand. After seeing the state of the minibus, I was surprised there weren’t more of them. It was not something a bit of polish was going to buff out. A couple miles later and traffic had stopped again because of a bus that hit a roadside concrete block and flipped on its side. Initial reports suggested it went off the road, down the cliff and into the river. Thankfully this was untrue, it had just capsized with no casualties. After lunch it was a drama free trip the rest of the way into Pokhara. Apart from dodging cows in the middle of the road.
Hotel Orchid was a nice little place and if your room was on the right side you would have a great view of the Annapurna range in the distance. George and I had to lean over the balcony, round the corner of the build to get a glimpse. Our room came with two king size beds to make up for it. These beds were so big that if two people did decide to share, they would be in different time zones. As the team were sorting their lives out in preparation for dinner it became clear that the bags weren’t completely waterproof. Mine must have been towards the bottom of the pile on top of the bus as I sustained minimal dampness. With every available surface being used to air out any damp clothes we started to gather one by one and beer by beer in reception for dinner. Emily, Chris, Lisa and Helen chose to find their own dinner that evening but the rest of us headed towards the river to the Moondance Restaurant. It was a beautiful space that looked like a Tibetan alpine lodge (if such a thing exists). The staff were really friendly and the food left people wanting more, even though mine came out lukewarm. The toilet caused endless amounts of repetitive fun because it could be locked from the outside so anyone finding themselves in need of relief would also find themselves unable to escape for a minute or two until someone else needed to pay it a visit, only to find the same thing happening to them.
Most of the gang went back to their rooms after dinner, followed a little bit later by Sam and Lana after they had found a cash machine. George and I continued on in search of The Silk Road bar where Ricky and Lin were spending their evening. It was owned by a friend of theirs and we were all invited. We noticed during the walk that the town was strangely quiet. Turns out it was closing time for almost all the bars. After walking what felt like the entire length of the town with no sign of The Silk Road and passed what looked like a police raid on another establishment we headed back to one we saw that was still serving. A couple beers and a good chat later we thought it was time to head back, we had to start climbing a big hill the next day after all. Before that we warmed up by climbing out hotel gate. It was that late they had locked us out.
Day 5 – Pokhara to Syauli Bazar
The night before, my bank card was rejected by all cash machines we walked passed, so adding to the headache of my hangover was trying to find a way to phone the bank without breaking it. Thankfully the hotel did cheap international calls. Every time I phoned them in the past to say I was going abroad, they told me I didn’t need to bother and my card would work straight away. It was all very well saying that but it clearly didn’t work. A jog to the cash machine and back and it was time to get this show on the road. Our starting point for the trek was a town called Nayapul and from there we would walk to our first campsite at Syauli Bazar. The road to Nayapul was awful. If the journey lasted any longer than it did, there was no doubt in my mind it would send me over the edge and result in a visit to chunder town. Nayapul was a bit of a nothingy town, it was purely a start point for the Annapurna treks and the shops were there to provide those taking part with anything they could need. Rick and I decided we were short of an essential an bought a football with the intention of a trekker verses porter football match. An unofficial international at each camp.
Crossing in the Annapurna Conservation Area and trekking zone takes you across a bridge covered in prayer flags. For me it was like one of those Hollywood films where time slowed down as I walked through them waving in the wind. I found it a magical moment. I spent pretty much the entire walk at the back Ricky, Binoy and Kalyan. The hangover prevented me from doing anything else but it was nice to get to know our Sherpas better. A fanta from a shack halfway through sorted me out a treat though. Items like this got more expensive the further through the trek you got as everything had to be transported to these places with less and less reliance on motorised transport.
The first day’s walk was a short one compared to what we would be doing and we must have set quite the pace as the porters got quite the shock when we came round the corner before they had started setting up camp. It was lunch time and this is when we realised just how good we were going to have it. We were glamping. Our camp would be set up and taken down for us, our large bags would be carried for us, the food wood be cooked for us and the table would be waited on. Our porter team was incredible. Our campsite was a field in the very small village of Syauli Bazar. It was so small the place only had five buildings. One of them was a cow shed. We were allocated our tents and after George and I decided which side we wanted and were introduced to the individually tented hole in the ground with a seat over it we went down to the river that flowed next to the field.
Made from the melt water of the surrounding mountains, it was a relaxing place to sit but the water was so cold it would take your breath away. George spent some time making towers of stones. These are meant to represent stupas to wish for safe returns from the mountains and for good fortune for friends and family. Needless to say, as ethical travellers we had the utmost respect for what these stones represented. A target to try and knock over by throwing other stones at them. It must have been alright because Rick joined in. Ted, George, Rick and I stayed down by the river for quite a while, coming up with new and ever more inventive games. Even when it started raining it couldn’t wash away the fun.
I dried off in my tent then relocated to the dinning tent to try and finish some more of the write up of my Costa Rica trip when I got distracted by the sound of more fun outside. Of course, Ted was involved. He was playing football, swinging around and stealing the noses of two young boys from the village. Between that and watching two village puppies play fighting around camp, it was a very entertaining first evening. The icing on the cake came when Machhapuchchhre (the fish tale) becoming visible through the clouds at the end of the valley. During dinner we were introduced to the Blue Sage Trekking tradition of going round in a circle and telling everyone what our moments of the day were. Mine was either finding out how we were going to be looked after of the river games. We all spent some time looking at the stars, pretending we knew what we were talking about and one by one going back to our tents via a trip to the outhouse. Sleep was difficult to start with as there was a procession of drummers and pot bangers travelling between villages. They could be heard long after they left the village.
Day 6 – Syauli Bazar to Ghandruk
For breakfast the porters took the tent off the dinning tent so we could eat with a view that was only going to get better the higher we went. Mandy tweaked her back while she was packing and being no stranger to the relentless bitch that is back pain, I helped stretch her out and showed her how to warm the area up and reduce the muscle spasm. The ports had finished packing camp up and we could really see the incredible loads that they carry up and down the mountains at speeds most unladen westerners would struggle with. I gave one of the loads a run around the camp and the strain it puts on your neck is intense! These guys were so strong. As we started walking it became clear that one of the dogs from last night was going to be joining us. She followed us for so long we eventually gave her a name. We called her Momo. Because she was from a different village, every time we walked through a new one she would get bullied and chased off by the dogs from that village. This day’s walk wasn’t going to be our longest walk but would be the one with the most incline. Shortly after lunch it started to drizzle. My jacket was back in Kathmandu and the big heavy down jacket I borrowed for the walk was in my bag on the back of a porter miles ahead of me so I ended up borrowing Sam’s umbrella. It wasn’t the coolest I was going to look during the trek but it was close. Luckily the rain stopped for ten minutes to give us a break as we walked through Ghandruk, the town we would be camping in that night. The gateway into Ghandruk had a hammer sickle graffitied on it along with other pro-Maoist writings. Before heading to the campsite, we took a detour to the local monastery. The visit was mainly for Matt and Amanda. The Lama of the monastery wasn’t around so we left Matt and Amanda there as we went off to find the campsite.
Snow Land was run a family of Tibetan origin with beautiful building set scenically right on the edge of the valley. For the second time we shocked the porters by arriving before they were ready. It had started raining again so we took shelter inside one Snow Lands cabins till it had passed. Rick had managed to acquire a large blue bin bag and turned it into a poncho for me. It was amazing except for exposed arms and head. Just before dinner the clouds started to clear and the Annapurna range was starting to become visible.
After a cold shower in a cold room I joined George Ricky and Chris outside. At night with no sun to heat up the mountains you get a clear view of them all which made it easier for Rick to point out which peak was which and what their names were. Back in 2003 Rick and Lin spent six months trekking the Himalayas from West to East, unsupported. It was a very impressive story, one I hope to recreate one day with my own wife, when I meet her. Although it was night time and most people were tucked up in bed trying to sleep, most found it difficult to achieve sleepy bliss due to the dogs of the region. Not just the town, but the region. The hills were alive with the sound of barking. They took full advantage of the silence of the night to bark at each other from opposite ends of the valley. No need for Facebook when you can do that. Adding to the noise was a group of inconsiderate Chinese tourists doing various noisy body weight exercises just outside our tents. They were already in my bad books after they commandeered my shower with all my stuff in it for fifteen minutes. Fortunately for them, they were far away enough from the valley edge that throwing them off would take more energy than I could muster at that point.
Day 7 – Ghandruk to Tadapani. I crawled out of my tent at six in the morning as nature was calling. Lisa had just finished her phone call I presumed as she was heading back to her tent. Anyone up at that time would be treated to unhindered views of the Annapurna range. No one else was up so I had it all to myself. For half an hour they were all mine, not ruined by the presence of other mere mortals or noisy dogs. One by one I was joined by the others, starting with Sam, but there was still very little conversation to ruin the moment. A short time later the sun rose over the mountains making them glow. I hate to sound like a cliché that finds everything in Nepal spiritual but it did create an ethereal haze and it was a magical moment. Sadly, I was one of the last people to the breakfast table so I ended up with my back to it the rest of the time.
With camp packed up it was time to start walking again. This was going to be a longer walk but with less of an incline. The most noticeable difference between the walks were the environments that we were walking through. The scenery changed from paddy fields, shrubberies, valleys and the odd patch of trees for a walk in the woods. The other difference was the amount of human traffic. Instead of dodging donkey trains we had to wait for human congestion to pass during narrow sections. It was impressive to see how many different nationalities were on the route. All we needed to do was to make sure Ted didn’t cause a diplomatic incident by being Ted. As the walk was more level there were more opportunities to talk normally without wheezing at each other, making it easier to catch up some and get to know others. I found myself naturally moving between the front and the back of the group, talking to different people. You could tell we were gaining altitude, even if it was subtle, as more and more stalls were selling yak wool clothing.
Our lunch spot was a in a small little village on the edge of some woods. Before lunch was served, Matt was teaching Ted, George and myself a new card game that I was terrible at. After being fed and watered a few of us retreated into a smaller room attached onto the “dinning room” where they had created their own heating system from an old oil barrel covered in clay. It worked a treat. Got to love Nepalese ingenuity. On of the young boys of the family that ran the place we were taking shelter in joined us for a little bit. He was fascinated that I could tune their guitar with an app on my phone. I showed him Angry Birds but he was a lot more interested in another game Hill Climb Racing. It was soon time to follow the trail again and almost like clockwork it started to rain. Equipped with my big blue bin bag, I was ready this time. Back in the woods, we found loads or interesting bug catching plants and petal covered glades made from the from the many pink and white flowered trees we walked under. It looked a little bit like a Disney forest.
Tadapani was smaller compared to Ghandruk, but because everything was more condensed it felt busier. Our campsite had more great views of the Annapurna’s but this time we had to share it with the rest of the town as it was the best, even though we were the only ones on the campsite. Again, like clockwork the clouds dispersed for a clear view of the range. Sam and I went off to see what the chefs were up to in the cooking hut. It was incredible what they were able to create with the most basic of equipment and facilities. What made me enjoy this even more was learning that momos were on the menu that evening! I went for a walk around the town, appreciating the anti-Maoist graffiti then George, Matt and I went up a small tower that was owned by the hotel that ran our campsite. It was used as a restaurant but we used it for more card games and beer. It was also nice and warm up there as it was starting to get a bit cold. About an hour later and it was time for the meal that would cement my place as the chef’s favourite. They apparently like people who eat a lot, and a lot I ate! They kept coming back to me with momos and it was so hard to say no. I kept trying to sent them back to the other end of the table but no one want any. Or any of the incredible chicken curry. I didn’t need to eat any more, I just wanted to, so after I learnt that if I kept eating I wouldn’t be taking food off the plates of the porters and Sherpa’s, I was obligated to do the responsible thing by having more to reduce waste. With a food coma in full swing I was carried back up the tower for more cards and beer, trying to be as quite as we could as porters from other expedition parties used the same space to sleep, read or play on their phones.
Day 8 – Tadapani to Ghorepani
Just like the day before, I crawled out the tent at 6am, but this time to find pretty much the rest of Tadapani was already up with cameras and tripods at the ready for the sunrise of liquid gold over the mountains. Today’s walk was going to be the hardest of the trek. We started with a 300m decent down into the valley only to head back up 800m. On the way down we were treated to a troop of white-faced monkeys that were just in range of a decent picture at full zoom. The ascent was relentless and I’m not too proud to say I needed the odd moment to catch my breathe. I never found altitude a problem but that climb definitely took it out of me and if it wasn’t easy enough already, the rain and heavy pedestrian traffic certainly made it so. After a while we stopped asking the on coming walkers how much further we had to go. It just got depressing. A clue that we were getting close was when they started saying it without being asked. We must have looked like we needed good news. During our lunch break I had a little nap while Sam proceeded to play Bucking Bronco with napkins on my head and then went on to interrogate an Australian who was doing food reviews or restaurants around the Annapurnas with his girlfriend who looked half his age.
Back on the road and it was business as usual, walking and rain, but with no human traffic this time. We passed the time playing Who/What would you rather? as we walked towards the ridge, the highlight of the day’s walk. Someone from above must have been smiling down on us because just before we made it out of the trees the rain stopped and the clouds started to clear. The ridge was an incredible stretch along the top of a hill with uninterrupted views on either side. To the left were hills covered in colours ranging from purple, yellow and red to every shade of green imaginable. On the right were the Annapurnas, and just like any classy lady, she showed enough to keep you interested but not too much that it removes all the mystery. It was a fantastic spot for a group picture. After the ridge it was down the hill to Ghorepani. From here we were able to see the tower at Poon Hill we would be visiting the following morning. About halfway down the final straight my knees started to suffer. I don’t do well with descents which did not bode well for the next few days after we peeked Poon Hill.
Ghorepani translates as Horse Water because of its history as a stop off point for traders across the Himalayas, and I found it very appropriate that we were greeted by some as soon as we entered the town. Also, at the entrance of the town, at 2874m, was arguably the highest basketball court in the world. Shame we didn’t have a ball anymore. When we finally walked into our campsite for the night, the porters were there to clap us in to a camp that was already set up. They are the ones that needed an applause.
Our campsite was on a narrow strip on the side of the valley with our own private outhouse. It was definitely a loo with a view. At the end of the strip by the Sherpa’s tents was a bench where I chose to have my post walk hot chocolate as it came with a mountain view rather than having an inside the dinning tent view.
With that delightful beverage and its refill banished to the depths of my stomach it was shower time. There was only one in the main building of the Greenland Hotel that owned our campsite. It was a big cold room with water only slightly warmer. After I got out I was on the verge of cuddling up to the oil drum heater in the communal area but we were called for dinner. When the chefs and porters had made me finish everything off I went back to the tent to put my dragon onesie on and we made our way to the hotels dinning hall for the standard card game marathon. I went via the porters hut as I though they would enjoy a good laugh at a westerner dressed like a twat in the mountains. The Dragon of the Annapurnas, that is what I shall be remembered as. Or, The Bottomless Stomach of Nepal.
Day 9 – Ghorepani to Hille
We were woken up just before 5am. Today was the day we would peak Poon Hill for the sunrise. It was a cold start to the morning and I was very glad for the down jacket I was lent by Blue Sage. I held up the group back a little bit by leaving the loo trip to the last minute but that was noting compared to how we felt with old Sherpa Phurba leading the way. He walked at such a pace that half of Ghorepani overtook us. He had probably done it a thousand times before and knew what he was doing but with it getting light very quickly and a few of us were losing out patience. Myself and Sam were getting frustrated and I may have annoyed Ted by trying to get Sherpa Phurba to get a wriggle on. As is happens we made it with plenty of time and I managed to claim myself some prime real estate at the top of the tower. We had unspoilt views of Annapurna 1, Annapurna South, Hiunchuli, Dhaulagiri, Nilgiri, Tukuche Peak, Tilicho and Machapuchare. We also had a view of a small section of the Kali Gandaki Gorge, the deepest in the world. I took far too many photos of pretty much the same views from slightly different angles and because the light kept changing as the sun rose above the peaks and higher into the sky it changed their appearance. There were very few people still up on the hill by the time we decided to head back down. Most people left as soon as they had seen the sun rise which seemed like a bit of a waste to me. After sliding back down the hill and having breakfast under the mountains glowing in the sun light, we left Ghorepani for our last full day of the trek.
To make it feel like all our other days walking it rained. It started over lunch which ruined our lovely outdoor spot and got so bad we had to take shelter in another restaurant and played cards for about an hour playing drinking games with hot tea until the worst of it passed over. My knees hated going down and progress was slow. I spent the second half of the walk at the back with Emily. She was one I had probably conversed with the least until this point so it was nice to have a few decent hours of conversation with her. The path did eventually level out with some bridges spanning some small valleys to allow the villages to get to each other. Not sure what they used to do before these were built. Ted being the man child that he was used this opportunity to see how much he could make them bounce and swing which didn’t impress Amanda. She hated these wobbly, valley crossing death traps, even without the child sized pensioner shaking it like a polaroid picture. It continued to rain all the way into camp and only stopped after I sat down with a hot chocolate and placed my bag in a puddle. Only after that did we finally get some relief. Above our campsite was a small little bar/convenience shop where we had our standard pre-dinner beer and card games. We also got talking to some Hong Kong Chinese who were walking in the direction we just came from. For dinner the chefs pulled out all the stops. I will forever be amazed by what they were able to create with basic equipment and facilities. They somehow made a cake without an oven! During dinner we did our standard best moment of the day but with the added element of the best moment of the trek. This question came a but prematurely for me as it was yet to come. As the last night with the porters, chefs and Sherpas we all descended upon the poor little bar next to the campsite. The little lady who ran the show apparently gets it all the time from trekking groups.
It was one of the most amazing nights not just of the trip but of my life. We were treated to Rick and the rest of the trekking staff doing renditions of traditional Nepalese songs and dances which we were invited to, but mostly pulled up to join in with. After a few drinks it was all done voluntarily. Ted’s dance off with Sherpa Phurba has probably gone down in trekking history. We taught the trekking staff how to do the Hokey Cokey while trying to convince them that it was a traditional English war dance. Not sure they were convinced but everyone was so enthusiastic I was surprised the small bar hut didn’t fly off its supports down the hill. Eventually, it was time for the headline act. George and I were going to perform an original song. Every morning we were woken up by the trekking staff with hot water (tattapani) or milk (dut) for a morning tea or coffee. As we were walked, we found ourselves singing tattapani, tattapani, dut, dut, and now we were going to perform it in front of everyone. At first the crew looked a little confused, almost as if they weren’t sure if our song was just about hot water and milk, but they eventually started to join in and we blew the roof off the place. The poor bar was taking a hammering. Considering our song only comprised of four words (or two words depending on how you want to look at it), our song lasted three minutes. It started a bit shaky when I was trying to work out what beat to play on the madal drum (the traditional Nepalese drum) but I will be bitterly disappointed if the song never made it into the Nepalese Singles Chart. The evening carried on with more singing, dancing and rum. One by one the team started to return to their tents. The closing act before I left the bar was listening to Emily sing. It was a very calming night time lullaby.
Day 10 – Hille to Pokhara
Before it was time to embark on our final walk, it was time for the tipping ceremony and to say goodbye to the porters and chefs. While it sounds like we just went around the crew pushing them over, the tipping ceremony was actually calling them all up individually and taking it in turns to had over envelopes with their tip in it as they went around everyone shaking our hands. After a full team photo and George and I getting a selfie with Ming Gurung, a young porter we had talked to most (he also had the best hair), the porters and chefs made their move. When they got to the other end and our equipment was safely with our bus, they would move on to start their next job or home to their families. Where ever that might be.
We were following the river all the way back to Nayapul where lunch and the bus back to Pokhara would be waiting for us. After a little tea break an hour into the walk it started to become my favourite part of the trek. I felt a bit sorry for Sam and Lana because they missed it all being efficient and dashing to the finish line. The fun starting with rock hopping by the river, climbing massive boulders above the river for cheesy jump pictures, science lessons with Ted and skimming stone games with George. There was a fisherman fishing in the river by throwing a net in. I must have followed him halfway back up the hill to try and get that perfect picture postcard action shot. I never got it. We were down by the river for nearly an hour before we actually moved on, only to get distracted again just around the corner by the longest suspension bride we had encountered during the trip. It was slightly off the path but worth the detour. Amelia definitely would not have gone on this one.
After the bridge we all spread out a bit and I got a bit of time and space to myself, walking at my own pace and taking far too many photos in and failed attempt to be arty. I eventually caught up with George for the final section. We encountered two forks in the road and with no one around to ask we had to gamble on which directions to choose. “Do you remember that time we got lost in Nepal?” was a story we were looking forward to telling but sadly we choose the correct route each time. As we walked through Nayapul and George was looking at souvenirs, I had a young girl who could not have been older than seven come up to me and started to recite the English alphabet and counted to fifty. If I’m being honest, she missed everything between 15 to 18 but it was still very impressive. I showed her my Nepalese counting skills from 0-8 but she laughed in my face. With my pride damaged it was completely shattered when George and I took on two guys from the tourist police at a game of pitchnut. It’s a bit like pool but with only four holes and you flick discs across a board with your fingers. We were truly awful but I took solace in being better than George. His handy cap was probably his cumbersome yeti hands.
We were just about to make it back across the prayer flag covered bridge when we got intercepted by representatives of the Annapurna Conservation Area. We weren’t in possession of our trekking passes so I was held at ransom until George returned with one of our Sherpas from the other side of the bridge. There are worse places to wait. I had lots of informative posters to read and pretty office girls to talk to. I was eventually released and just the other side of the bridge was lunch. Our trek had come to its official end which stirred up a few mixed emotions. I was happy that we had successfully completed it and that my knees had not exploded but was not ready for it to finish. I needed a few more days. As a little extra treat, Lin handed out our trekking registration cards and entry permits for the conservation area. The best souvenirs of the trip in my opinion. After saying our final goodbyes to the chefs, it was time to find the bus. During this last little bit George donated a walking stick he made during the trek to someone roughly his size from the oncoming traffic about to start their trek, we witnessed a group melting down old statues, turning them into pots and pans in sand moulds and another group standing around a butchered buffalo which, when separated, impressively took up roughly the same surface space of two tennis courts.
The hotel we were in last time we were in Pokhara was fully booked so the Hotel Crown Himalayas, just around the corner from the Orchid, was our accommodation from the next two nights. After swapping rooms with the Duffields and having showers we all went out to find the Silk Road. It was a lot easier in daylight and it was love at first sight. It had an area for live music, an outside area with a table football table, a decent selection of alcohol and because it was run by one of Rick and Lin’s friends, they kept providing us with free momos and chunks of buff. I could have spent the rest of my days here but a quick google search suggests this gem, this magical place on earth has closed down. I don’t over exaggerate when I say the planet has suffered a catastrophic loss as a result. We spent the whole night there. We ordered dinner, had a few games of table football and enjoyed the open mic that was going on. George and I got talking to a pretty English girl who had spent the last 150+ days in Pokhara and seemed quite proud of it as it was all she was capable of talking about. With the realisation that I was never going to be the kind of person she would look to pursue, and me not wanting to be that type of person she wanted, I found a better use of my time and a little while later I think we left. My only recollection of getting back to the hotel was four of us trying to squeeze into the back of a small car and little Rick managing to blag the front seat to himself.
Day 11 – Pokhara
George and I had discussed the possibility of going hang gliding on this morning but we both had cracking hangovers so we decided to give it a miss. Some hanging was done at least. We arranged to meet some of the others down by the lake for a spot of canoeing before lunch. While waiting for the others to arrive I became aware of a man sat on some flattened cardboard boxes nearby who was giggling to himself and rolling around. He was puffing on a bag of glue and completely blown out of his brains. I found it genuinely upsetting so see someone in that state. Nepal is one of the worlds poorest countries and a lot of people struggle to get by but I had never seen anyone in such a bad way with my own eyes before.
All assembled and we made our way on to the lake and it very quickly descended into a drag race. George and I won and then proceeded to avoid Ted like the plague as he was splashing anyone who got within range and causing diplomatic incidents with Chinese tourists. Just before Phewa Lake widens is Tal Barahi Temple Island. The islands temple is a two-story pagoda dedicated to the Hindu Goddess Durga, the protector of gods. It was nice little place ruined by pigeons, their desire to defecate everywhere and a giftshop.
After returning to dry land, the group starburst to do their own thing. George and I walked along the lake front path to find a place to eat with a view. We were not disappointed. It was a little on the pricy side (for Nepal) but the seats were comfy, the food was good, the beer cold and the snow-capped mountain view was excellent. Sufficiently full we went to explore the town, starting with a tattoo shop. George wanted new earrings and it seemed like the logical place to find them. We took a selfie outside after to send to Sandy, George’s mum, to make it seem like we got something done. It was only after that I thought we should have borrowed a biro from the place to draw something on us.
Next stop was a shisha bar to get some of our 5-a-day in the form of mango daiquiris during happy hour and passion fruit flavoured tobacco. We were above street level so we could also people watch from a safe vantage point. When walking back down the street, we spotted the girl from the night before. She was sat with people more her type. Club Amsterdam Café Bar was an accidental pitstop. We were walking past it when we got a view straight through to some decking at the back with views over the lake and mountains. The result was more beer and card games. We did eventually make it back to the hotel via some souvenir shops and as a souvenir fiend, I got more than I probably needed. Now, I’m no pro when it comes to haggling but watching George try made me look cut throat. The difference was only a couple of pounds so it could have been worse.
That evening we returned to the Silk Road but with the whole team this time. Table football became a very serious event this time with it turning into an international competition. There was a very loud group of Auzzies who were in the area doing a rafting tour and were a little on the obnoxious side of life. After England, represented by myself and George, put a swift end to team Nepal, represented by Binoy and one of Ricky’s friends, Australia stepped up. Things got off to a bad start when they scored an early first goal which sent the Auz camp into a frenzy and worried the Brits. This didn’t last long and our worries got washed away like their rafts with a final score of 10-3 to the lions. I don’t think there has been anything I wanted to win more, before or since. After the table football was finished, I got called up by Rick to be the session drummer for various open mic performers, including Rick and Emily. Not going to lie, I felt like a bit of rock start and people kept buying me drinks. Double rainbow. But like all good things, it had to come to an end. The bar had to close and tomorrow we would be returning to the capital.
Day 12 – Pokhara to Kathmandu
This day was a very unique experience and I will probably remember for the rest of my days but would never want to repeat. It was a day that the Unified Communist Party of Nepal, more commonly known as the Maoists, went on a nation-wide protest. It isn’t a protest as most in the western world would know it where you march on parliament with signs and words of mild displeasure, but rather an almost complete shutdown of the country. During a Maoist strike, no business is allowed to open unless given permission and no Nepalese national was allowed to travel beyond the confines of their own town, village or city. Anyone caught breaching these rules would be beaten or killed. Road blocks were set up with mopeds on patrol to enforce it. But why don’t the police and army step in I hear you ask. I have no idea about the army, barricaded themselves in their bases I presume, but the police do make a presence. Armed with helmets, body armour, bamboo sticks and the occasional riot shield, they pose no threat or hinderance to the Maoists, for if they do, they will also be beaten or killed. Tourists, relatively speaking, don’t have that much to worry about. The Maoists were quite clever in that their direct contact with tourists is put to a minimum apart from intimidation tactics so that there is no international involvement to prevent them from being the cancerous tumour of the nation. Back in the early 2000s when they had quite a substantial following, they would stop trekkers and ask them to make a not so optional “donation” to the party. If the trekkers refused, in the interest of preventing international involvement, they would not be harmed but the frustrations of the party would be directed towards their Sherpas and porters. There are few words to describe people like that. After the collapse of the monarchy in 2008, the communists where voted into parliament but they only lasted a year because they only knew how to bully people, they didn’t know how to run a country. The only positive from their time in office was the abolishment of the cast system that separated the population into different classes. Social stratification if you will. A couple months after returning from Nepal I read about Rick and Lin’s travels. They stayed in a pro-Maoist controlled town and found the people to be some of the friendliest they met along the way and the Maoists freed the town from corrupt government officials.
On our way back to Kathmandu out bus was boarded by two Maoist “representatives”. Their primary goal was to make sure the Nepalese nationals had a valid reason the be travelling and secondly to scare us. Without trying to sound macho, I wasn’t scared. My anger emotion was in overdrive, drowning out every other sensation. I remember thinking who do these people think they are? How dare they just jump onto our bus like they own it with all the foulest intent. I wound have been happy to be a martyr, to be a catalyst for international involvement so it never happened again. As a result of this event, the Maoists have been added to a list, that includes who ever does the Lonely Planet travel guide maps, of people I want removed from the earth. By being fired into the sun. We had to wait further down the road for roughly an hour for other buses to catch up so we could travel in convoy. There were many, many vehicles involved but the one good thing about this was the road of death was clear of almost all traffic, massively reducing the chances of us being driven off a cliff.
After a brief stop to pick up snacks for lunch and having some of the best fried fish I have ever had, we made it to Kathmandu. To start with the streets were exceptionally quiet of people and traffic giving it the appearance of some post-apocalyptic world. The crowds did start to get alarmingly large towards the end and just like our initial departure we had to do the last bit on foot because the bus was too big.
It was nice to be back at the Kathmandu Guesthouse, reunited with the rest of my stuff and with better rooms. After the usual discussion about who wants what bed, flicking through the telly to see what was on and phoning Sam’s room because I could, I showered and changed for dinner. One by one we gathered in the gardens and one by one the empty beer bottles grew until we were all ready. I had the garlic chicken curry George had before we left due to food envy and it was definitely worth the wait. Most went back to their rooms after dinner but as the Maoist strike finished at 5pm I went to see if the Pilgrims Book House down the road was open. A few places had opened back up but most remained shut, including Pilgrims, so I met up with George, Rick and Chris at the Shisha Terrace Café & Bar. A cover band was playing and they were rather good. Two older blokes who I suspected were on more than just beer entertained the crowd with a form of dancing that is hard enough to describe, let alone recreate. They did start to annoy George by putting their face far too close to his, far too often. An hour or two of this and we had had enough.
Day 13 – Kathmandu to Nagarkot
We woke up early to catch a flight that would take us along the eastern Himalayas to get a glimpse of the highest point on earth, Mt Everest. While we were at the airport, we said our farewells to Helen and Lisa who were flying home. They were dropped off at the international terminal while we headed to the domestic terminal. I had never been a passenger in a plane so small that it had just one seat on each side of the isle. Better to see the mountains that way I guess. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little disappointed by the experience. Don’t get me wrong, I felt very lucky to have seen the top of the world and it was incredible but it was so far away. I envisioned flying so close to the mountains that you could scrape your fingernails across them and wave to the brave souls climbing it. I had built it up so much I was genuinely devastated when it didn’t pan put that way. Stupid health and safety. We returned to the Guest House and then all starburst across Kathmandu to do our own thing. I had a power nap, then went shopping before we all reunited to head out of Kathmandu to Nagarkot after saying more goodbyes to Heather, Rick and Lin. Heather was flying home early the next morning and Rick and Lin were flying to Darjeeling to visit some of Rick’s family before flying home.
My nap earlier clearly didn’t work as I ended up falling asleep on the bus and when I woke up, the building of a bustling city that we were driving through had been replaced by farm land and massive brick chimneys. As we climbed up the valley, the scenery changed again to pine forests that reminded me of Estonia. It is amazing just how much variety in terrain Nepal has to offer. We stayed at a place called the Hotel at the End of the Universe. It was a cool little place run by marijuana smoking layabouts. George and I had a massive room with great views and a big social area with a table and seating area on a raised platform. Ted and Denise were next door, Matt and Amanda had their own two-story cottage and Sam and Lana had a room in a tin shed on stilts. Sam, Lana and I went for an explore around the village to find a drink and a possible place for dinner. What we didn’t expect to find in this small, little place was a large pool hall and plants that looked suspiciously of the smokable herbal variety growing by the side of the roads. There was what looked like an outside bar on top of a small little hill overlooking a valley surrounded by prayer flags. Shame there was no one manning it. A bit further down the road we came across a group of children trying very valiantly to sell us bookmarks and fridge magnets. They seemed to live in a group of corrugated iron huts in a clearing next to the road.
When we got back to the hotel we sat with Matt and Amanda outside their cottage with a few drinks as the sun was working its way down though the trees. Just before it set, the others returned from their little adventure and we all made our way to the top of the hill where the hotel had its own onsite temple, Mahakali Temple, so we could watch the sunset and see what kind of view we would have for the sunrise the following morning. With daylight sufficiently depleted, we retreated down the hill to mine and Georges room for more drinks and more card games. Ted had booked a table for us all at the hotel’s restaurant. For some strange reason we chose the cross-legged seating instead of normal tables and chairs because we clearly enjoyed inducing leg cramps. The food was good and it had a nice atmosphere. What ruined it were the stupid hippies outside playing bongo drums poorly. After a few games of Connect Four where all the females in the couples around the table won (George and I didn’t play to avoid finding out which one of us was female and reduce even more bromance jokes) and a couple of desserts we all returned to our various forms of accommodation. George went for a smoke with the hippies first and returned a little more merry and mellow then when he let.
Day 14 – Nagarkot to Kathmandu
I had a rubbish nights sleep, suffering for the first time during the trip of a dodgy tummy. Trying to keep it on the down low and not disturb the peace was difficult because our on-suite was essentially part of the room with a large upper panel of the wall missing. So, if you wanted to, you could pop your head over and have a decent view of what was occurring. I eventually managed to join the other up at the temple just in time for the sunrise which we came all the way from Kathmandu to see. Rejecting more bookmarks and fridge magnets I had to run back down the hill for round two with the toilet bowl.
Everyone had a nap before breakfast on the patio outside reception, the sun made its way high in the sky by this point and it was a beautiful morning. Bags packed, we put them in the back of a mini bus arranged for us by Rick. Before boarding we had a chat with a boy trying to sell us more bookmarks and fridge magnets whose English was better than mine. He was an absolute delight to talk to and I wish I wrote his name down. We were heading to Bhaktapur. Sam and I would just be spending the day there as we were flying home the next morning. George, the Duffields, Ted and Denise were flying home the day after so would be staying the night just outside of Bhaktapur. We dropped them off at their hotel and headed into town with a time to meet back up.
Sam and I had different views on when we wanted the driver to pick us back up. I had explored the Thamel area extensively already so wanted so wanted as much time as possible in a new area. Bhaktapur was once one of three independent kingdoms fighting for control of the Kathmandu valley, the other being Patan and Kathmandu. Also known as the City of Culture, Bhaktapur was an independent kingdom until the 18th century and after Patan has the best-preserved Durbar Square in Nepal with some incredible examples of ancient Nepalese architecture. The Bhaktapur Durbar Square was added to the list of UNESCO World Heritage Sites in 1979. The square was definitely in a better condition than the Kathmandu one. The quality of the architecture was very impressive, along with the diversity of different styles. Some of the temples wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Angkor complex in Cambodia. At the gateway to what is now a school were two statues that were deemed such masterpieces when they were caved in the 18th century that the king at the time had the sculptor’s hands cut off so he could never recreate his work. A rather unorthodox way of rewarding someone’s hard work but each to their own. While waiting for the others, we sat in a rooftop restaurant overlooking the square eating the local speciality, king curd. Named because it was a favourite of the royals in residence, it’s a sweet curd made from yak milk and is debatably the best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth. I could have spent a small fortune on continually eating it but the others were a no show so we decided to move on towards Potters Square.
The entire square was filled with pot of different shapes and sizes drying in the sun surrounded by potters, their wheels and ones ready to sell for those with more luggage allowance than I did. We watched a potter for a while and it was incredible watching these pots take shape. Next stop on our guide book’s suggested walking tour was Taumadhi Pole where we climbed the stairs of Nyatapola Temple, the highest temple in Bhaktapur. It was an impressive structure with some decent views from the top. We spent far too long looking for the famous Peacock Window which is regarded as the finest and best-preserved carved window in the valley. The problem was that Sam gave me the guide book. This is not to say I am a poor navigator, quite the opposite if I do say so myself, but as a dyslexic when you have two long neighbourhood names that look very similar, chances are that it won’t become obvious straight away. Eventually we started moving in the right direct of Tachupal Tole, the location of the window. Tachupal Tole was a small square and it had a completely different atmosphere to the others. It felt more laid back and peaceful. The Peacock Window was everything it was it was described to be. What made it even better, and I’m not making this up, in the next window down was an actual chicken standing in the window striking a pose. I can only assume it was trying to get noticed by a modelling agency so it could have its own window.
We made our way back to Durbar Square following the guide books suggested route, designed to show you more than just the main attractions, taking side alleys to discover hidden shrines and pokharis (ancient water storage tanks). Some of them had turtles in them. We returned to Durbar Square just as the others arrived. They were late because their hotel was more of a home stay and the lady of the house was not going to let them go anywhere until they were fed and watered. Time was getting on, they had things to see and we had a bus to catch, so we had to say goodbye. I was rather glad to have tinted glasses so no one could see the eyes get a bit misty. With the little bit of time we had left we popped into the National Art Gallery where many of the original sculptures that decorate the Kathmandu Guest House are kept. Although there were very few pieces that I would actually have in my house, I enjoyed the stories and styles of paintings on display. The sculptures were more my thing.
We returned to the Guest House with rooms opposite each other, got changed and headed out for dinner. After going through the Lonely Planet for recommendations we settled on The Yak Restaurant. Other than a power failure and food that took so long to arrive that my Chinese red curry must have been flown in from China, we made a pretty decent choice for our last night in Nepal. We spent the rest of the night looking for a shirt for me and a game for Lana. Bagha Chal is a two player boardgame where one player controls 20 goats and the other 4 tigers. The tigers win if they eat 5 goats and the goats win if they move in a way to prevent the tigers from moving. The t-shirt used the last of the money I wasn’t saving for souvenirs and Lana’s game was a bit more difficult to obtain. Not many places sold it and the only one we found that night refused to haggle. Having failed that, Sam set his mind on getting some yak cheese but was not happy with any of the prices and gave up on that as well. They eventually settled for a selection of yak wool and pashmina products. Back in the room, I was trying to work out how to pack everything and still be allowed on the plane. Fortunately, I’m my mother’s son, therefor genetically programmed to defy the laws of physics Mary Poppins style.
Day 15 – Home Time
The return journey was fairly uneventful. Music was listened to, films were watched and conversation was had. The most exciting part was running through Muscat airport with about twenty other people so that we didn’t miss our connecting flight back to Heathrow. We did make it with just enough spare time to catch our breathe before boarding. I thought it was the makings of a new gameshow. It could be called Airport Rush, Transfer Time Trial or Connection Rally. Probably hosted by Ant and Dec. We parted ways at baggage claim when Sam and Lana insisted that I go because their bags were taking a lifetime to appear. So that was it. The adventure was over, the team was scattered and the bank was broken, but I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
I arrived back from Nepal 15 fifteen days before the April 25th earthquake of 2015 that quite literally shook the lives of millions and killed close to 9000 people. If that wasn’t bad enough, a couple weeks later on the 12th of May, Nepal was hit by a second quake that added to the death toll and devastation. It really puts a few things into perspective. I’ve been lucky to live in the UK that apart from its infamously bad weather, which if we are honest is just a bit of rain, wind and occasional sprinkling of snow, is free from seriously catastrophic natural disasters like hurricanes, tornados, volcanos, earthquakes and things of that nature. I’m also lucky that I was able to see some of Nepal’s oldest and most important buildings before the earthquakes destroyed them beyond repair. My only regret from the whole trip was when we were in Pokhara and I was asked twice (possibly by the same guy) if I wanted my boots polished. We had just got back from the trek and they were looking a sorry state. My thought process was it would force me to buy my own so I could sort my own boots out after future trips. Three months after returning and I still hadn’t done it. If I had said yes that would have been a little more money in the hands of people and an economy that desperately needed it far more than I did. That blip on my conscience aside, that trip exceeded all expectations. I couldn’t have asked for a better team to be trekking with. It was the perfect number of people with enough of the right personalities to make it fun and interesting without one person ruining it for everyone else. As the trip went on, mine and George’s bromance blossomed and became a running joke with everyone else. He pretended he hated it at the start, complaining everything I called it “our room” or “our tent” as if we were a couple. He let the odd similar comment out once or twice during the trip though.
Every other time I have been travelling on a trip like this I’ve tried something different and come back liking something new. This time was no different but it was something odd. Popcorn in soup. A trekking crouton. It was a surprisingly brilliant combination.
When we were flying from Muscat to Kathmandu, Sam and I watched The Inbetweeners Movie 2 which features a character called Ben who is brilliantly portrayed as your cliché overly cultured and spiritual travelling twat. Throughout the trip Sam and I would point out each other’s “Ben” moments but the crown had to go to Chris for his one and only Benisum that we witnessed. There may have been more but when we bumped into him walking back to the hotel during our R&R day in Pokhara, he showed us a rare book he was unable to obtain back in the UK called Breathe which was filled with a load of enlightened hippy spiritual stuff that I had no appreciation or tolerance for back then. Four years later and I think I’m ready to allow that as being socially acceptable but it still made him king of the Bens during the trip.
I can’t thank Rick enough for suggesting the trip in the first place, let alone organising it. Everything ran so smoothly and we were so well looked after by the trekking staff. They are all superheroes in my eyes. There is so much more about Nepal I’m going to miss. How genuinely friendly everyone was, the smells, the sounds, the colours and just how overwhelming that first arrival in Kathmandu was. I’m going to miss the mountains, the lakes, the forests and the rivers. I’m going to miss momos and being woken up with offers of tattapani or dut. The mother and the future Mrs Barrett will need to be trained to do this. There are 1001 things I’m going to miss about Nepal, 1001 things I have probably already forgotten and another 1001 things still to forget but hopefully I have got at least some of it down in here. It was the best trip I have ever done and I’m going to have to go back. To see the damage that was caused by the earthquake and how its bounced back. To do a safari in the south to see rhino, elephant and tigers. To do a rafting trip like the Auzzies. To do a base camp trek to Annapurna or Everest (or to do Everest itself). But most importantly because I still haven’t seen a yak or a yeti.
