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Published: December 15th 2006
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Next stop Nepal: Left Tibet as we had entered - arguing about taxi fares to border. Put our watches back 1 hour 45 minutes and bought a lift to Kathmandu in an ancient Toyota Corolla estate joined by an Indian guy we met at the border who couldn't haggle to save his life or even his Rupees.
In kathmandu could finally buy guide books about Nepal and India - both bad words in China's Tibet - and add to the hearsay of backpackers we had talked to in Tibet. Booked ourselves in for a 9 day rafting trip followed by 17 day trekking trip. Nepalese are revelling in optimism about the future after Maoist rebels declared armistice and plans to enter politics which will hopefully undo tourism slump of the last few years. Obviously, taking Northern Ireland as an example, that will all go without a hitch!
There was a 2 day bus ride to the rafting put in point which ended with possibly the most dangerous part of the whole 9 days - a grade 6 (v. hairy) descent down hairpinned road with regular landslides above and below in our battered old bus, complete with tyre blow-out. I
reckon the blow-out was caused by Stephen Carrol, an Irish guy on board who had just finished working for Ericsson and who invariably suffers vehicular calamitied at every step. We were escorted through a supposedly dangerous region by a truck load of 15ish year old worn out M16 and Kalashnikov gun toating Maoist rebels at one stage but were never asked for the 1000 Rupees (10 euro) we had each expected to have to "donate". We made it to camp on beach by river first night setting up tents we'd never seen before luckily under bright full moonlight.
There were about 30 in our group including guides which meant some had to go on the roof of the bus - nothing unusual in these parts, and often sought after positions. 6 were Irish, making us the most represented nation - reminding me of hyper-celtic climbing of Mach Pichu in Peru with myself, Bla, our mate Mick Callan and 5 girls from Kilbarrack! First 3 days were in increasingly big and frequent white water, camping each night on sandy river beaches having Rum Punch soaked dinners round drift wood fuelled camp-fires under a bright but decreasing moon. A rest day
of chilling on one of said beaches and trying to 'Eskimo Roll' in a kayak was followed by 2 relaxed days in calmer waters floating to the take out point. Amidst the curious on-lookings of most of the local population our satisfied and well bonded group repaired to a nearby hotel for early lunch (11am) and lots of beers. With lots more beers to hand most of us boarded the bus for a drive through the day and night back to Kathmandu, most of us on top of the bus despite there being plenty of seats below. Myself and Bla were at the front of the top so it was our job to shout when a low wire or branch was approaching. Sure enough this dangerous concoction of beer brought on bravery ended in disaster when a fairly corpulent Ozzie guy fell off, all 20 odd stone of him landing on his head. When blood trickled from his ear and he hadn't regained consciousness for 30 minutes we carried his dead weight on a tarpaulin onto the bus and drove fast as possible to a doctor and then to a mozzie infested hospital. By then (1 am) he had regained
enough consciousness to know that he did not want to be taken off the bus to a hospital of which he has an inate fear in general. When he fell asleep again we bundled him in. They gave him an injection to make sure he was knocked out and he was ambulanced another 10 hours to Kathmandu where he was put in intensive care for a week with a fractured forehead under sedation so he wouldn't get up and leave. He seems to be recovering alright and plans to continue his trip over land to London, with a twist to his head and his tale! I learned that it is not a good idea to wreck yourself so far from non-mozzie infested hospitals.
Relaxing in Kathmandu for a few days gave us the composure to head on our 16 day trek around the Annapurna Himilaya range - FYI, Annapurna 1 was the first 8000+ metre mountain ever scaled, by a guy called Maurice Herzog and he wrote a good book about it. Well, he must have dictated the book, cos he lost his fingers and toes to frostbite on the climb.
They've just passed a new law here
requiring all trekkers to take a guide or porter, which was a shock since you have to pay for it too! With our unwanted porter/guide in tow, we trekked on average 20km a day rising from terraced padi field hills, through forest/jungle, up to lunar like high altitude terrain of Thorung La at 5421 metres, and back down the other side reversing the order of habitiat. Villages every few kms provided cultural distraction and overnight lodges of varying degrees of primitiveness, hot water and culinary standards, but all sociable and enjoyable. One evening, chatting to the owner of a restaurant high up in the mountains we asked her how she got all her ingredients - most came up on the backs of human porters and donkeys, many she had grown herself and in the last few years had built a greenhouse to expand the variety she could grow at that altitude. When she wasn't busy she liked to listen to the radio but had grown increasingly concerned by the constant references to the greenhouse effect and the detrimental impact it was having on the world. Eventually, wracked with guilt she went out and dismantled her greenhouse! We laughed until we
realisd she was serious and then did our best to explain that the world's problems were anything but her fault. On this trek again we met Maoists and this time had to make a 'donation', but did not find any locals who thought they were good people.
Enjoyed every one of the many steps on the trek, and as I sat in Pokara by a lake at the end of it, vowed to return to this outdoor paradise of a country.
Took a day trip to Baktaphur, a preserved ancient town 30km outside Kathmandu and met a guy on the bus who wanted to show us around. Assuming he wanted something in return we were wary, but he gave us the full tour including watching a duck, a chicken, a goat, and a lamb having their throats slit in the name of religious sacrifice at a Hindu shrine as part of the local festival that happened to be going on. He then brought us out, on the roof of another bus, to meet his grandmother, returned back to Kathmandu with us, and wanted nothing but an email address in return. Sound.
Off to India in a few
days forewarned that it is hard work and that we'll need to put our watches forward another 15 minutes....
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Oisin
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Judging by the number of comments added, this is a very popular blog! For me, it's fantastic. I'm at my most sedentary and unadventurous in years, and you guys are just the opposite. I've decided to do even less and instead live vicariously through your adventures. If you keep going on, I'll never have to leave the couch! But what if there is a connection? When you're sacrificing goats and getting frost-bite I'm usually snuggled up in bed with a hangover with just my nose peeping out. When you're having your rest day on a beach, I'm out basejumping off Liberty Hall. If you do head for the tsunami region I'll have to up the ante just to keep you safe. I'm thinking of joining a Dublin crime gang... For the love of God, enjoy!