Pokhara - Paralysed by Maoist Action

We left Kathmandu eagerly anticipating our stay in Pokhara, blissfully unaware of how our agenda would be transformed by someone else's political agenda....

The first hint that things were not running exactly as planned came when we left the hotel and walked to our coach. The driver was busily stripping "Kuoni" logos from the side of the bus before hanging a large green banner on the front saying "Tourist Only". We were told there had been attacks on Nepalese army vehicles along the road to Pokhara "But don't worry, they will not harm foreign tourists...." It added a frisson of excitement to our departure and we set off in high spirits, buoyed by a little adrenaline boost.

Before long we were leaving Kathmandu and following a convoy of lorries heading into a long and winding, hair-pinned descent to a river valley way, way below.
And then we stopped.
And waited.

After an hour or so we began to clamber out of the coach to stretch our legs. I got out my binoculars to peer down into the valley far below us: The road snaked back and forth deep into a valley and headed off to the far horizon. Along its entire length were lorries parked nose to tail, many with bonnets raised. Miles ahead something had broken down or crashed. With no passing places or alternative routes no-one was going anywhere.

Time dragged by. Eventually one or two vehicles came up from the opposite direction, engines screaming as they dragged huge loads out of the winding pass. Slowly, oh so slowly, we began to inch forwards down the hill. How long we sat in that jam I couldn't say, but our journey time of five hours doubled to ten by the time we reached our destination.

The scenery along the route to Pokhara is stunning and we stopped a couple of times to stretch legs and take in the scenery and fresh air. We also stopped a couple of times in more ominous circumstances:

First we came across a police control point. Ahead a group of soldiers stood beside a wrecked jeep which had clearly been blown to pieces in an attack. We quickly passed by and drove on feeling a little subdued. Then there were muted gasps as we looked ahead to see the road blocked by people carrying banners. Was this a group of Maoists waiting to "Tax" us? Thankfully, Not! It was a group collecting donations for a religious charity and we were soon relieved to be under way once more.

The light was beginning to fade as we descended towards Pokhara, the lake and mountains just about visible ahead in the haze. Our arrival was much later than planned so we would have to wait for the morrow to truly appreciate the views. As a result we ended up exploring the hotel (disappointing) and eating a poor meal.

Next day brought fresh disappointments. We rose early and threw back the curtains expecting a glorious view of the Himalayas.....to see instead a glorious vista of mist and haze! As we headed to breakfast we were taunted by huge posters on the hotel walls depicting the views we couldn't see! We assembled to meet our guide for a morning of excursions and were quickly hit by the second major disappointment: The Maoists had decreed that from tomorrow all forms of powered vehicle would be banned. Anyone found using a motorised vehicle would be shot! So, if we wanted to explore it would need to be done today!

We started our excursion by visiting the Davis waterfall. Jan and I weren't particularly impressed by this, but Jan fell in love with two delightful little girls who decided to adopt her! But better things were soon to follow: We made our way to a Tibetan village to find the villagers out on the streets clutching prayer wheels and beads. At the Buddhist monastery the monks were in ceremonial dress and busily decorating the forecourt in preparation for the first visit from their new Lama! And so we waited patiently until the monks all rushed to form a reception committee, striking up a cacophony of sound on long horns and cymbals. The new Lama emerged from his car on the shoulders of a monk ... a small child with a frighteningly serious frown on his face!

Back on the coach we headed off towards a Hindu temple where we would witness sacrifices. But at this point my stomach began to cause me serious discomfort ... the hotel buffet was taking its toll! I clenched my buttocks grimly and explained my predicament to a disinterested guide. By the time we reached the Hindu village I knew that I would soon explode if I tried to walk, so I virtually grabbed the guide by the throat and demanded help! Reluctantly he asked some villagers if they could help me and they pointed to a wooden sentry box in the middle of some allotments.

While the rest of our group disappeared into the temple, I grimly hobbled into the hut...which turned out to be three walls, a piece of sacking for a door and a hole in the ground. As I disrobed in agony a small collection of curious children gathered on the other side of the sacking to enjoy the performance.... and a couple of charming ladies brought me extra water to irrigate the shed :o)

Several kilos lighter and with a great weight lifted from my mind, I skipped across to the temple to find the rest of our party. Along the way I passed many hindus leaving trails of blood from the headless chickens they carried. I found our group looking pale and sombre, eager to move on.

The final part of the excursion was a boat ride on Phewa Tal, Pokhara lake. We shared a boat with Pat 'n Sue, the two nurses who had been so wonderful and so selfless giving up their time to help an injured tourist in Sariska.

Back at the hotel Jan and I quickly decided that we would have to make the most of what remained of the day. A taxi was summoned and we headed off to Sarankot, which is supposedly the best viewpoint for the mountains. We asked our taxi to wait and headed off up the hill pursued by a posse of would-be guides. Eventually I got rid of them by saying "Sorry - we just got married and want to be alone!" (OK, so I lied!)
Along the way we came across a small farmhouse and stopped to get a drink. The farmer's wife was weaving "cashmere" shawls from Yak's neck fur - surprisingly soft and luxurious - and we came away with a beauty. Sadly the view at the top was less beautiful .... mist and haze obscured both the mountains and the views of Pokhara below. So we returned to a Pokhara restaurant for a few drinks and a delicious meal of fish caught in the lake. "What time is happy hour?" we asked. "It's always happy hour here" Iour host beamed, so we settled back for some serious gargling :o) Emboldened by a few bevvies, we attempted to walk back to our hotel, but eventually gave up and grabbed a taxi. It was a lot further from the town centre than we expected!

Next day we stepped out on to the streets to see if the Maoist threat had been successful. Apart from the occasional bicycle or ox-cart it was deserted. So we decided to turn about and take a walk straight out into the open countryside. Which proved to be an inspired decision!

As we walked away from the town we quickly found ourselves in the middle of wheat fields. Everywhere we looked small groups were working to harvest their crops, using buffalo to separate the grain from the stalks. Following this trampling the stalks were gathered and thrashed before building beautiful circular hay stacks. Each stack was finished by topping-off with a small offering. It was impossible to pass these groups without lots of excited waving and calls to join in! There was frivolity and laughter mixed with industry everywhere we looked.

We came to a small village and felt as if we were entering another century when an excited child rushed by playing with a hoop and stick! A woman offered us oranges and a farmer asked us onto his farm to see his home and his animals. The village and the farm were immaculate, the farmer and his family smiling and proud. Walking on from the village we came to a massive river gorge and were quickly surrounded by a throng of happy, giggling children who had been swimming there. An older lad with them asked very politely if he could walk with us to practice his English, and we clambered down to the stony river bed to take a path which followed its course. Ahead of us an elderly woman was toiling her way down the same path, weighed down by an enormous load of crops on her back.

We strolled through this stunning landscape chattering away to our new host while eagles soared and wheeled above our heads, occasionally diving to pluck a fish from the river. I passed my binoculars to the young lad and watched as his jaw visibly dropped at what he could now see! Meantime, ahead of us, the old woman and her huge burden was almost out of sight, climbing the river banks to reach an amazing suspended footbridge. By the time we arrived there she had bounced her way across to the other side and disappeared from view. We passed a few more farms before eventually finding ourselves back at the hotel and leaving our new friend. He would take no reward for guiding us and left us totally enamoured with Nepal and the Nepalese people.

Next morning the mist and haze had cleared a little and we were at last rewarded with an impression of what the view could be. The Himalayas were much higher than we had imagined, soaring up above the clouds. We were met by our Guide who said we could not risk taking the coach back to Kathmandu. Instead Kuoni were going to fly us out at midday. And so we went for a last stroll, visiting the Museum of the Mountains (which was nearby) before joining some local families playing on a huge bamboo swing.
The contrast with India was staggering: Here children were encouraged to laugh and play, villages were immaculately clean and the proud Nepalese were warm and welcoming. A wonderful, wonderful country!

We flew out of Pokhara in small twin-propped aircraft from Buddha Air. Outside the cabin windows was a spectacular view of the Himalayas .... yet inside the cabin sat an irritating Dane who kept trying to show me his photographs of the same view that he had taken on the way out! Which is better... the real thing or a tiny photograph? You decide!

Our last day in Kathmandu flew by - we walked, we shopped, we saw the King hurtle by in a cavalcade of limos and motorcycles (a rare treat since he seldom dares to venture out of the Palace grounds) before reluctantly returning to Delhi and then the UK.

Oddly, the Maoists did us a favour: Without their intervention we would not have enjoyed our fabulous rural walk (highlight of the holiday) nor would we have seen the glorious Himalayas in all their glory.
Thanks, guys!

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