Leaving behind the mountain butterflies and bamboo, the bamboo as thick as my leg and, tapering, rising thirty feet before looping on itself and, still tapering, ending at nothing, like a horse carriage whip, we caught something of a taxi back to Pokhara. I say something as we felt sure it was a chap taking his mother back to Pokhara and we paid to ride. Still, he was a careful driver and without a word we got back in one piece. Arriving back at the cottages we found everything locked and dogs gone. No sign of life, so a new hotel
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