I’m sure you know that I am allowed to have input into the main blog composed by Bev. (Input that is often unhelpful and ignored of course!) However, this is my own blog at the end of Nepal.

The Nepalese are a charming race with ready smile and a willingness to please.  You quickly learn not to ask a question and infer the answer as they will just agree rather than offer a conflicting reply.  If you ask how much farther – about two hours? The reply is always yes sir. The correct question is - how much farther?  Then the answer will be the right one.  Our trekking guide was 35 years old, married with a little girl. He had no schooling but by dint of effort now speaks English and Japanese and can read and write pretty well. He was raised on a mountain farm as a Hindu, he then spent four years as a Christian and is now a practising Buddhist. Religion is an important personal belief but inter faith marriages are becoming more and more common.    Our porter was 25 years old and took either guide or porter work to pay for his university. He has one year left and then a further year to become a trained teacher.  His Father and Grandfather are hill farmers who have never left their village and cannot understand the need for education. The younger generation here are striving for something better, the women are particularly disadvantaged.  Child marriage was only made illegal here in 1998 and still continues in the remoter areas.      

We were travelling here and the bus made a stop at an untidy lay by, this allowed relief for the men in full view and the ladies behind the screen of some bushes. At the side of the road two Nepalese ladies were crouched over small charcoal fires cooking sweetcorn on the husk. It all looked a bit black on one side so I decided not to bother.  As I stood waiting to board the bus a young man and his wife insisted that I try his sweet corn which was now off of the husk.  It was very tasty. On board he would not take no for an answer emptied a fair portion in Bev’s hand. We both enjoyed the flavour and the simple act of kindness and inclusion of two foreigners into their snack.  

I have enjoyed every moment of our stay here. In concert with Bev I think that Nepal has more to offer and is in all things more pleasing than the parts of India we saw.  It will surprise a few that I enjoyed the six days of trekking.  It was a real slog at times but I gained great satisfaction from extending my knees to the limit.  Roy please tell Ronnie there is life after knee replacement. We have purchased walking poles and are planning to trek in Thailand and Vietnam. 

Kathmandu is a frenetic capital city and we are in the old part with very narrow streets. Walking is a continual battle to live out the day, taxis continually blow their horn or shout to attract your business. We decided to visit a wonderful Stupa and Temple about 6 Kms away. As unusually there was not a single taxi in sight we started to walk intending to flag a ride on the way.  We got lost and turned the journey into 10 Kms, and then slogged up a million stairs to the top. The report and pictures are on Bev’s blog.  We set off homewards weary and determined to locate a taxi, only when we arrived back in the city did we realise that the streets were free of any traffic.  The Maoist faction had demonstrated their political muscle by stopping all business. The shops were shuttered and groups of men were everywhere ensuring that anyone trading was closed down with force.  Our favourite spot for breakfast had its external lights and signs smashed for staying open.  But during this time tourists, totally unaware, continued to wander about and were in no danger.      

Every few steps you pass a shrine or temple.  I think I am Templed out and am looking forward to a move to Thailand.  I have just read the Lonely Planet and it would seem there are a number of unmissable temples in Thailand, Laos and Cambodia. Deep joy!

No matter what standard of room we are in the loo seat falls off!

Things I haven’t done since leaving UK.

1 Felt cold.

2 Missed a putt.

3 Complained about slow play.

4 Listened to complaints about slow play.

5 Filled up with petrol.

6 Driven a car.

7 Answered a phone.

8 Mowed the lawn.

9 Listened to or watched the news.

10 Taken out the recycling bin.

11 Watched TV.

12 Spent time in Tesco.

13 Worried about the sports results.

My dislike of mobile phones is still very alive. Whilst I am pleased to see that most children do not have (cannot afford) a phone it is disconcerting when the Mahout on our elephant and the camel driver both thought it necessary to accept calls at work!

Love to all.

6^th December – At 8:30am we set off with our rucksacks to walk to our new hotel. We were surprised that there were only a few bicycles, motorcycles and pedestrians on the streets and that most of the shops still had their shutters down. Usually there would be the little battered Suzuki hatchbacks rushing about beeping and stopping to offer a ride.

When we got to our new hotel, the Northfields, it was also a bit strange to see the solid metal gates pulled across and the security guard just opened a small gate to let us in. Even the fact that the Northfields cafe next door had the same system in operation didn’t sound any alarm bells – we just thought that maybe they weren’t up to full strength because it was still quite early. But we had an amazing breakfast (scrambled egg with mushrooms, onion, cheese, and herbs with toast) before setting off to walk to the Buddhist Swayambhunath temple – also known as the Monkey Temple because of its hairy, noisy, residents!

The temple was impressive. For me to use that adjective about a temple at this stage, and having got lost to the sum of about 5k on the way, means it was very, very impressive – even with a framework of scaffolding screening the thirteen rings of gold (representing steps to enlightenment or ‘nirvana’) circling the upper reaches of the structure. The only drawback was the impossibly steep flight of steps it was necessary to climb in order to reach it. The monkeys were funny and the little babies a delight. Also, the art and architecture were so wonderful. But Alan and I will never cease to be amazed at the ease with which these people wear their religion and their artefacts. Little shops and stalls occupied any available nook or cranny, and someone had hung towels out to dry on a lovely carved shutter in the main square.

We were a bit worn out when we returned to city level and resolved to catch a taxi to our next destination, the Garden of Dreams. We walked and walked, and still no taxis. Alan said something to the effect, “Where are the little so-and-sos when you want one?”

Still we walked and eventually returned to the hotel. By this time we knew something was not normal. Shutters were still down on shops and people were just standing around in groups on the streets. But they seemed fairly relaxed, so we were not concerned, and we were not the only tourists still about. On getting back to the hotel we noticed that the cafe next door, where we had breakfast in the morning, had had its outside lights smashed. Back in the hotel we were told that the Maoists had called one of their frequent strikes, and woe betide anyone who flaunts their rule. This is most likely why the lights of the cafe were broken, having served breakfast in the morning.

As there was little else to do, and with Alan now firmly in the grips of the cold that half of Nepal seems to be suffering from, we decided to hole up in our hotel room for the afternoon, using the time to do some planning for the next stages of our travels. With a grandstand view of the little streets of the Thamel district from our window, we were able to see that people, including tourists, were still moving about. However, at one point there was loud shouting and noises of smashing just around the corner as, I am guessing, a bunch of yobs decided to ‘punish’ someone for not observing the strike. Later an ambulance went past and we could see at least two people lying in the back. Soon the street was as before, with a few souls wandering about with nothing to spend their money on.

We had been told that it was possible that things would get back to normal around 6pm – and it did to a certain extent. Some, but not all, shutters were flung up as shops started trading. We popped out for dinner and managed to end up in a Thai restaurant, the last place we wanted to be just before going to the home of the real thing! But there were alternatives and I had a delicious Nepali Dal Bhat, the standard diet here, although an up-market version. The basics are rice and lentils, papad and pickle, and one or more curries. There is also a dish called ‘Thali’, which I think I told you about this before, but this seems to include some form of dessert as well. I expect to see both on the menu at Lassan when we get back to Stewkley!

Back at the hotel it was candle-power only, so an early night was had.

7^th December – Today’s navigation went a little bit better than yesterday’s. Alan is doing a sterling job using the tiny maps in our Lonely Planet guide and, as I have contributed nothing except grumpiness when we get too far off-piste, I have nothing but admiration for him.

We followed one of the city walks recommended by the LP and were not disappointed. Yes, a lot of temples, but that would be because there are a lot of temples. But more importantly for me, we went down little streets where the locals live and shop. I was fascinated to see the stalls selling big rocks of salt, several types of peppercorns, herbs I couldn’t identify, and much, much more. The saucepans here are brill, but I just can’ fit any more into my rucksack. Well, apart from the t-shirt we’re about to go and buy for me :o)

Some of the streets were incredibly narrow (about 12 feet wide) but still the motorcyclists whizzed down them, fighting for space with the cyclists and pedestrians. There were several streets with the cutest little shops – these were less than head height, so the customer had to duck down to enter. Once inside, either one had to crouch at the counter or, in some of the more up-market ones, there was an arrangement of seats either side of the counter, a little like an inglenook fireplace, where the customer could sit in comfort to be shown the wares, mainly proper grown-up goods such as lovely gold jewellery, etc.

Having missed out on the Garden of Dreams yesterday, we resolved that this would be our next destination today. We bought a picnic and wimped out, taking a taxi there.

The garden is set in the midst of busy down-town Kathmandu, surrounded by high brick wall. Entering through a very ordinary doorway off the street, the visitor is made aware very quickly that he or she has entered a different world. In an alcove to the right three water spouts, set in a creeper-covered wall, trickle into a stone basin. Turn left, pass the ticket office (modest entry fee plus 250 rupees for five hours’ worth of wi-fi anywhere in the garden if desired!) and one emerges beside one of the three pavilions and the garden is laid out in all its splendour.

An army general, Kaiser somebody or other (sorry, not good on detail!) started building the garden in the 1920s. After his death, in 1969, the family handed the garden over to government care. From that point it began a rapid decline, with plants left to grow wild and vandalism of the statues. One of the beautiful pavilions was bricked up to house the archives of some government ministry.

In 1997, with the help of the Austrian government, the restoration of the garden commenced. Pieces of broken statue were painstakingly gathered and reassembled. One statue, of a sphinx, is a testament to the diligence of the restorers – the main part of its head is missing, replaced by a metal bar linking the body with a decorative headgear of some sort.

We found a shady seat in one of the many unique little sitting areas that have been created around the garden, at one end of the lily and fish pond. Speaking of ponds, there are water features everywhere, of every shape and size. A restaurant has been created in one of the pavilions and extends outside, down a pergola-covered, lush flank of the garden. It is accessed by stepping stones across water that sparkles where the sun hits and throws up dark reflections of the greenery around.

Did Monty Don (?) visit this one on his Gardens of the World tour? If not, someone please tell him not to miss it on his next series. If there is any criticism of this garden, in some ways it is gluttony for the eyes. Architectural features, water features, plants and art battle for attention. It’s probably best viewed in a series of photographs so that each feature can be appreciated in peace, without being muscled out of the way by the next wonderful thing. Still, there’s no pleasing some people, is there? But don’t misunderstand me, I loved the garden, it is the best thing about Kathmandu as far as I am concerned – in fact, we both enjoyed it so much that we are going to go back tomorrow to have lunch in the aforementioned restaurant.

Big Bros – I’ve bought a new piece of kit for my camera, hopefully I’ll be able to eliminate the blurriness in some of the low light conditions that I love so much for photographs. It’s a five inch high, bendy-legged tripod and, guess what – it only cost 400 rupees, which is about £4!! Indeed, it was cheaper than the t-shirt I bought, which was 500 rupees.

8^th December – Today is our last day in Kathmandu, Maoists permitting. We should fly out at 9am tomorrow by Nepali Airways. We’ve been warned to get there well early as they have a habit of selling loads of extra seats, then kicking off the passengers unlucky enough to be at the end of the queue.

We intend to spend most of the day back in the lovely Garden of Dreams, just chilling out, then having lunch before coming back to pack for our journey tomorrow.

Lest you think I am a complete ‘Nepalophile’, there is lots about this country that I dislike, all of them first encountered in India, so perhaps I am actually becoming a little more tolerant. No, let’s not go that far, I’ve been sitting at our hotel window writing this blog and shouting at the eejits that are unable to speak in normal tones and always sound like they are angry. So, here’s my list of fings wot I didn’t like about Nepal:

• The eejits who can’t open their big gobs (can you tell I’m Irish) without shouting;
• The hawking – both kinds, selling and spitting, but mostly the latter as it is so prevalent. They sound like a nation of two-legged cappuccino machines, and the habit is not restricted to smelly old men. Young people, women, children – they’re all at it. In our country the pavements in cities may be fouled with chewing gum, but here it’s...well, we won’t even go there;
• Flippin’ CDs of monks chanting “om blah de blah de blah”, played at full volume of course; and
• The endless tooting of horns – what is it about peace that is so alien to these people? Take me back to the hills!

But somehow the beauty of the people and the place bring out the forgiveness in me and, unless I am feeling tired, I have found myself able to overlook my dislikes. The true Nepalese (not those of Indian origin) have the most lovely high cheekbones, slightly oriental eyes, and wonderful smiles. Most pursue cleanliness and neatness despite having some of the same disadvantages of their Indian neighbours. Many, such as those we saw carrying massive loads up hills we viewed as serious trekking, make a living in conditions we can’t even begin to imagine. And the countryside – well, that’s what really got me. Those snow-capped mountains, the deep valleys with their tiers of tiny fields and little farmhouses clinging to the steep slopes...this has been the saving grace of Nepal for me. If only they would sort out the ridiculous political situation, this would be a great place to live.

Photos

2^nd December – We arrived in good time to catch our bus to Chitwan, famous for its elephants and one-horned Indian rhinoceros. Even at 7am there was a festive air at the bus ‘station’. Lots of buses and passengers and people flogging food and souvenirs such as prayer wheels, which is probably a fair comment on the roads. Our bus turned out to be one of those that, back in India, we said we would never go on because they usually have people hanging out the sides and sitting on the top with the luggage.

We are so glad we did not stick to this resolution. What entertainment, and how much nicer than being stuck in a car with one guy trying to make polite but hard to understand conversation or to talk you into visiting his boss’s shop.

It turns out that it takes three or more men to crew a Nepali bus, and that the concepts of ‘tourist’ and ‘express’ are variable. The driving is carried out by committee. There is the driver, an admin guy, and a running about guy. The last two appear to be tasked with helping the driver make decisions about moving forward, stopping, changing lanes, and with finding locals to fill any seats not taken by fully paid-up tourists on our ‘tourist express’ bus. In order to fulfil these roles, they hang out the door of the moving bus for most of the journey.

Regarding the additional business from locals, there seem to be qualifying criteria, which we have not yet worked out, but some people waved for the bus to stop and were not accepted. Others seemed to be co-opted from the crowd. Still others were waiting at invisible bus stops for us to pick them up. The driver seemed to join the other two taking calls on mobile phones from these pre-arranged pickups. Sometimes money exchanged hands, sometimes it didn’t.

The admin guy and the running about guy indicated that the driver should stop with a series of dah-dah-dah knocks on the side of the bus. They would then tell the driver to carry on by banging a series of dah-dit, dah-dits. Our running about guy on the way to Chitwan was so enthusiastic about this role, that he dah-ditted like mad when we slowed because of a steep hill, or if he thought the driver did not pull away quickly enough. He and the admin guy would stick their arms out (on the left, driving on the left) to indicate that we were pulling back over to our side of the road, all the while staring at the person overtaken, sometimes smiling and waving and yelling some more if they recognised them.

One of the passengers leaving Pokhara was a young girl, travelling with a friend, who was clearly suffering from food poisoning. Less than an hour into the journey we had to stop at a roadside doctor as she had passed out. Now the admin guy and the running about guy showed their true mettle. They half-carried her gently off the bus and to the steps in front of the doctor’s shop, where the poor dear was promptly sick. Soon she was surrounded by some concerned folks off the bus and a small crowd of local people. At the centre and sitting closely either side still holding her arms to support her were the admin guy and the running about guy. The admin guy held the girl’s head as tenderly as a father would have done while she retched. Both were heroes that day and showed immense compassion. It was also heartening that no-one on the coach moaned about being delayed for almost an hour in the end whilst the doctor administered an anti-vomiting drug and waited for that to take effect before allowing the girl to drink a rehydration mixture. She managed to sleep through most of the rest of the journey and although it was no fun for her she was not sick again.

Which was no thanks to the road – two lanes of fissured mayhem perched on the edge of a spectacular river gorge, of which there are some photos, most very blurred due to the combination of speed and bumps.

The area we were travelling to occupies the central southern part of Nepal and is a flat, fertile plain. It has along and, in recent history, tragic past. The Tharu people who live there have their own language and culture, quite different to the rest of Nepal. It is thought that they came from India many years ago, but recording of history in this country is not one of its strong points. The area used to be densely forested and the Tharu made a living by hunting and gathering. One day somebody had the bright idea of clearing land to plant crops and soon the whole region was largely deforested and agriculture became the main means of survival.

In the 1950s there was a mass migration of impoverished people from the harsh climate of the Himalayan north, all seeking a better life. Sadly this was a death sentence for most of them. What they didn’t realise was that the tropical climate that drew them here was also an ideal breeding ground for malarial mosquitoes. The Tharu people had developed an immunity to the disease, the only people known of in the world to have done so, hence the northern people were fooled into thinking they could survive there, too.

So many people died that, in 1960, the American government teamed up with the Nepalese government to eradicate malaria from the region, which it did successfully using copious quantities of DDT.

Our hotel, a series of lodges around a beautiful garden, was clearly still under construction, although it had all the important facilities in place. On arrival we met up with our guide, Hari, and our fellow tourist, Wolfgang from Nuremburg but now working in Dubai. He turned out to be a charming character and his command of English helped form us into a very happy little team. Our afternoon consisted of a village walk and a seat by the river to watch sunset. Early to bed after dinner, ready for a busy schedule tomorrow.

3^rd December – This morning we went on an elephant safari to see the famed rhino. Our mahout was called Sunil and his elephant friend of 12 years was Pujakali. The pleasure of seeing so many elephants in one place was slightly diminished by the fact that four large tourists (us included!) were the norm for each howdah. I wasn’t sure at all about elephants being used in this way, although a great number are used in a more respectful relationship, to help farmers with their work or to carry park rangers on patrol.

Having been let down by the tigers of Ranthambhore, we were not expecting anything of the rhinos. Imagine our delight when we found, first one adult enjoying breakfast, then a mother and baby lying together in the undergrowth. They were not afraid at all of the elephants and their eyesight is so bad that they probably didn’t spot the tourists all gawping and flashing their cameras from on top. Mind you, they were probably wondering what bird was making the strange, repeated, “aow maaah gaaaahd, it’s a real rhaaah-naaaah-cer-aaaahs” noise from the elephant in front of ours. This would be the greater US tourist bird, of which there is a photo in the gallery!

And we saw crocodiles – loads of them! There are two types in the National Park: the mugger (great name for a croc, I think!) and the gharial, which has a long, thin snout. Our mad mahout and Pujakali chased one of these through the water on a river crossing. Glad the crocodile didn’t get mad. There were several large muggers basking on the river banks and we were able to get some good photos.

Afterwards, for me, was the highlight – elephant bathing. This felt right enough, although still touristy, because the elephants do indeed need bathing twice a day to keep their skin supple. You can tell it was my favourite bit because of the many photos of this – apologies, but this is also my backup repository as well as being a place to share with you!

Bathing an elephant is like washing a very large, very dark-grey pineapple. Its skin is immensely rough, so the advice was to use a stone to rub. The elephant probably enjoyed this even though I thought it was a bit extreme and was looking for the sponge and the Johnson’s baby bath. I managed to sneak in a quick hug of its big flank! This was just amazing, I loved it and even forgot about all the tourists on the bank watching – a big deal for me.

In the afternoon we had a dugout canoe down the river. This was a tremendously peaceful and enjoyable experience for Hari, Wolfgang, Alan, and probably the boatman as well. For me it was a buttock-clenching, muscle-flinching trip due to our closeness to the murky water, the frightening lurching of our fragile craft as the boatman shifted his weight, and the proximity of so many prehistoric teeth, presumably not all of whom were enjoying an after-lunch nap on the river bank.  

Then we went for a nature walk culminating in a visit to the elephant breeding centre where, last year, there were twins born. This is apparently only the second instance of twins being born to an elephant in recorded history and, Roy and Cyn, you will realise this was to be a highlight for Alan, who is a real sucker for baby elephants (he married me, after all).

The mist was rising and the sun falling fast when we arrived at the centre. I think we were all (Wolfgang, Alan and I) taken aback when we realised that the breeding females were chained, as were most of the babies including the twins. We were the first of the late afternoon tourists to arrive at this place, so it was very quiet and every sound made by the elephants was audible. But the most marked and upsetting feature was the repetitive actions that are so indicative of a distressed creature.

We went on to have our photos taken with one of the free babies and, I have to confess, just being able to touch such a lovely animal was enough to put a smile on our faces, but the whole experience was tainted by the feeling that wild animals should not be used in this way. Wolfgang summed it up, however, goaded by a European woman who turned up and started voicing her disapproval loudly – he said that we cannot judge these people by our standards as it is such a poor country. And I am sure many will recall zoos visited in our privileged countries where animals were treated perhaps even worse at one time – I certainly remember a polar bear at Belfast Zoo in the 1970s that had blood in its fur from repeatedly walking into the wall of its enclosure.

That evening we went to a little theatre in the village to watch Tharu stick dancing. A far cry from Morris dancing, this was fast, furious and extremely skilled. From something we had dreaded, it became something we enjoyed and admired beyond all expectations.

On the way home in the back of the 4x4, elephant stables (four supporting tree trunks and a roof) abounded in the misty darkness, each one lit by a weak overhead bulb – just enough to show the ghostly outline of the chained occupant munching on bundles of vegetation provided by the mahout, who lives in a shelter on one side of the stable. Again, a scene with which I was not exactly at ease.

4^th December – I was not sad to say goodbye to Chitwan, although I must not be too judgmental for some of the reasons already stated. Alan is more pragmatic as usual, saying that at least the elephant population is being maintained by the breeding programme, and the working elephants, whatever their role, seem well fed and cared for.

Another reason for my relief at leaving was due to the attentiveness of the staff. There were so few of us in the lodges, and, instead of using the opportunity to detune their efforts, each employee seemed determined to outdo the other at helpfulness. In fact, one lovely boy, Deepan (name remembered through word association with ‘pizza’) drove me away from the last of my breakfast with his attentions. Grumpy old woman in full flow!

Today’s bus was once again operated under the committee and community service principles of the one in which we had arrived. In fact, our driver excelled himself by taking a detour through farm lanes that were barely wide enough for a donkey cart, never mind a Tata tank. At each storm drain crossing, the committee was working full tilt, with much dah-ditting and arm waving.

The route retraced some of our steps from Pokhara two days before, then we continued down the river valley with more opportunities for photos. For my Big Bros – lots of photos of quarries on the river banks! Again the blurring is due to speed, bumps, and probably a fair helping of plain old incompetence. What they don’t show well is the dust that is everywhere – much of the road surface dressing has been worn away and the tyres throw up this cloud that clogs lungs and coats the trees by the road with a thick grey layer.

On one of our stops, we saw a spider on its web strung between two shrubs. From leg tip to leg tip it was easily five inches long. There are some great photos (even though I say so myself!) that make it look as if it is really massive, climbing down the side of a building to eat some people!

The climb up to Kathmandu was something to behold, but as I am running out of superlatives (maybe I mean expletives), I will not elaborate. As we entered the city I was reminded once again of the dust, dirt and chaos, the likes of which I had not seen since leaving India. My heart sank and poor Alan had to work very hard to make any sort of a pleasant evening for us on our first night. He came up trumps as usual by suggesting dinner in an old palace that dishes up eleven courses and some local entertainment. Nepali Chulo is the place to go to experience something totally different, even sitting on cushions on the floor to eat. And I made a new best friend – a female child, Cynthia! Aren’t I doing well?

The MD of the establishment came over and sat with us for a while. He provided us with a card for a hotel he owns or manages, plus an adjoining cafe that features in the Lonely Planet, and wrote on it that we are to receive a discount on food and accommodation in each place should we choose to move there.

5^th December – The hotel we booked for two nights, chosen from Lonely Planet, has been a disappointment. Although the Ganesh Himal, as it is called, is adequate, there is no atmosphere and the staff have a 60% record of failing to fulfil our requests. Not bad when there have just been three, and very simple ones such as having some tea or completing the full complement of items on the breakfast menu we chose.

So today we set out armed with our Lonely Planet guide and the card given to us by the MD from the restaurant last night to find a new place for tomorrow night plus two more. The Northfields Hotel, despite its unpromising name, is a lively-looking place in a lively spot right in the Thamel area of the city, which is where tourists go to wander about the narrow streets and bazaars. It is also a good setting-off place for visits to temples, etc. We are now booked in and will let you know how we get on in due course.

Photos

Yesterday and today have been about personal admin. Our laundry is hanging in the sunshine on our hotel rooftop as I write! And apologies to fans of Alan's new designer stubble look - he went to the barber's yesterday and had it all shaved off. Then he had a head and neck massage that just carried on and on until he had had the full works. He returned to our room looking like he'd fallen in a tub of lard, but boy, did he feel smooth.

Tomorrow at early o'clock we shall be taking a five and a half hour bus journey to Chittwan National Park , where we hope to ride on elephants, see the new twins that were born recently, bathe the elephants - mostly about elephants but possibly some white rhinos and tigers, too.

Look forward to updating you soon - I'm off to charge up my camera batteries!

24^th November – We set off this morning in less than promising style, three well-built adults and two more dinky ones (our guide and porter) squashed into one of the small, battered hatchback cars that pass as taxis here.  And our backpack and bits and bobs, of course. Sager, our guide, comes from the same caste (loosely speaking in Nepal, ‘tribe’) as the Gurkhas and Jay is of the Rai caste, also Himalayan. They came highly-recommended and seemed to be very capable.

We climbed high into the foothills of the Annapurna range, marvelling at how people eke out a living in tiny terraced fields, growing millet, mustard seed and rice mainly. But it is also amazing to see orange trees (satsumas or similar) and bananas growing here. The ground is very fertile, perhaps thanks to the sheer hard work of the farmers (many women) who carry manure in large baskets from the farmyard to the fields. The haystacks are little works of art, some shaped like mogul helmets, others neat bowls upturned on stilts.

Saying farewell to modern transport, we left our tiny taxi and descended some steep steps down between very Spartan houses to a beautiful river valley.

Four and a half hours and a bit of a climb later, we arrived at Tikhedunga, our stop for the night. Our first night in a teahouse, as the little guest houses here are called, was a lovely experience. Probably thanks to our army exercise experience, we quickly shed inhibitions and were grateful for the shared shower – it was hot, after all!  Met a guy called Mick who now lives in Queensland, but was born in Blackpool and still has the accent as strongly as ever. He was only in his thirties, but was already struggling with the walking and climbing.

We were ready for bed by eight o’clock and slept like babies in our borrowed sleeping bags – I needed the protection of my own silk liner, Alan pooh-poohs such precautions! Thankfully discovered before retiring that there was a western-style loo, a welcome respite from the thigh-aching process of using an Asian-style one.

25^th November – Thirty paces after breakfast we hit the infamous steps to Ghorepani. People speak of these in hushed tones back in Pokhara – later in our trek when we met people going the other way round the route, they seemed quite awe-struck that we had climbed these. Not surprising when you learn that there are 3,764 steps with barely ten feet of flat ground at any point. And when I say steps, I mean steps made of varying sizes of rock, which see the walker sometimes stepping two inches, sometimes two feet. The impressive thing is that the local people built these miles and miles of footpath with their own hands, carrying the stones on their backs or those of mules.

We ascended over 1,000m in two hours of lung-busting effort. Soon we were rewarded with our first really good views of the Annapurna range – dominating the scene were South Annapurna and the impressive, almost frightening Machhapuchhre, or Fishtail mountain, which has never been climbed successfully. In fact, Sager tells us it was designated a holy mountain some thirty years ago when a team of seven or eight Japanese climbers fell to their deaths. Climbing on it is now forbidden. When viewed from the right angle, it is clear how it got its name - the twin peaks look just like a fish’s tail pointing skywards. All of its sides are so steep it seems madness that anyone would try to climb it anyway.

Having mentioned the difficulty of the steps that have all the trekkers talking, the locals just treat them as a normal part of life. Immense loads are carried up and down both on human and animal backs. It is amazing how the little ponies and mules can ascend and descend steps that are challenging enough when in charge of two legs, never mind four. And the men and women who carry baskets laden with all the sorts of stuff western people ask for at the top of mountains, such as Coke, toilet rolls, tissues and Pringles. When we were about halfway up the killer steps we were passed by a five-year-old in little green wellies (probably her only footwear) on her way to school. Sager and Jay tell us it is not unusual for children to have to walk two hours to school and this was not the last time we saw children walking, miles from anywhere, to reach their education.

We arrived at Ghorepani in the cold, quite gloomy, late afternoon. The mood was intensified by the fact that every large crow in Nepal seemed to live there. The village went on and on and up and up and of course we were at the ‘on-est’ and ‘up-est’ bit. We had reason to be very grateful for this next morning. Our room was en-suite – a rough-hewn tin box appeared to have been stitched to the main room. It had an alarming tilt and, when the loo was flushed, water gushed from the pipe leading from the cistern to the bowl. Nonetheless, this is luxury Himalaya-style and we were so grateful for the hot shower.

Once in our evening/sleeping attire of leggings, thick wool socks, down jackets and hats, we went down for dinner in the dining room. The room was heated by a large central fire in what looked like a mud-coated 40-gallon drum with a flue. It was surrounded by seats (all occupied by an excitable group of girls of several nationalities and their female guides/porters!) and surmounted by a framework from which were hanging all sorts of steaming socks, towels and shirts.

26^th November – Another name that is stuff of legend back in Pokhara is Poon Hill. For some reason, tradition demands that everyone who overnights in Ghorepani has to get up at a quarter to five in the morning to walk up this hill in the dark to watch the sunrise painting the mountains pink from the top down.

Fine if you have a personal trainer to warm you up. Fine if you have a cup of tea before you start. Fine if your wind-up torch doesn’t decide to wind up its business just as you start the climb. But we were grateful that Sager had planned for us to put in some extra effort yesterday so that we were positioned in the hotel right at the bottom of the hill.

This was not our favourite part of the trek, but there was something quite unique about looking back down the steep hill and seeing a snake of torches wiggling upwards in the darkness. No one was doing much talking, so the only sounds were the clumping of many walking boots and lots of heavy breathing. Add a canopy of bright stars the like I have never seen before and it did have its charm. And we were reminded of the extremes of this climate when we spotted that the grass was thickly coated with frost.

We reached the top just as the horizon turned pink and grey – and guess what, there was a tea stall! Sager, always attentive, rushed off and got us two cups of black tea. I then wandered off to position myself for some serious photography, leaving Alan sitting on a bench surrounded by the group of excitable girls from the night before.

Suddenly my reverie was broken by a loud voice shouting “Has anyone got any spare AA batteries. This young lady has walked all the way to the top of this hill and her camera batteries have run out”.

I thought to myself, that sounds very like Alan. It was. He was doing his usual knight in shining armour thing for one of the excitable girls. The response deserves a big hurrah for the human race. The young lady was soon surrounded by guides emptying their torches and a lovely big American chap who was willing to give up his own spares.

The view was wonderful, but like other people we had spoken to far below in Pokhara, later we found ourselves on top of other high hills that were part of our walk and where we could have enjoyed equally stunning views of the mountains. Instead we had to plod back down the hill and, after a hot shower (little did I know this would be my last one until the final day of our trek!) and breakfast, we headed out of the village in the opposite direction, climbing to almost exactly the same height as Poon Hill!

Having climbed for an hour out of Ghorepani, we started a steep descent into a river gorge that would have graced some of the scenes from Lord of the Rings. A creeping mist added to the atmosphere and it was very cold in comparison to the sunny hilltop we had left above. Our guide, Sager, had the knack of knowing exactly when to stop and, just when I thought I was going to have to ask Jay to unload the down jacket from the rucksack, we crossed the river to a lovely little teahouse. The kind owner, a lady called Mala, invited us into the kitchen because her dining room, like many others, was unheated. We gratefully snuggled up by the oven and warmed our bones as we watched her cook our lunch on three ‘rings’ (holes) over a wood fire.

In fact, the oven impressed me so much I will be coming back to England armed with a diagram of how to build one. Will someone from Stewkley tell Joe Whitehead-Nudd to brush up on his Nepalese oven-building skills, please?

The fire is fed with wood from the massive rhododendron trees (yes, trees – they grow to a great height here, similar to our oaks or chestnuts) and only from trees that have fallen and seasoned. There is very little smoke, but what there is has the most wonderful perfume. I remarked to Mala, who spoke quite good English, that I loved the perfume of the woodsmoke. She responded that she would rather have my perfume than the woodsmoke! (Back in Pokhara I sent her one of the little bars of English Rose and Watermint soap I brought with me from Littlecote – if any of the locals see Elaine, the owner, please can you let her know that one of her soaps will be heading up into the Annapurna foothills on the back of a mule?)

We reached Tadapani worn out from our early start and from the cold and steep descent only to find that, not only were there no hot showers, there was no water. But this was one of our best nights overall. Everyone in our teahouse assembled around a massive long table with a heavy blanket covering that came down over the knees. Underneath the table, trays of hot ash kept the sitters warm – and dried various pieces of underwear strung from a wire underneath!

We met two men from Tasmania who were walking to Annapurna Base Camp (or ‘ABC’ as it is called by those in the know) and had wonderful discussions about local politics, amongst other things. Have got Graham’s email address and may add Tasmania to our travel itinerary. It sounds like a wonderful place.

Also met up again with a lovely Japanese lady who now lives in Sidney and have her email address, should we pass that way.

27^th November - Next morning there was water, but it was cold. So I had a cold shower and dashed back to our room through the frost. Actually quite invigorating. Then we set off to Ghandruk, quite a large village by the look of the map. En route, I got some photos of some of the many, tiny flowers that abound – the reason some photos in the gallery have a big thumb in shot is to try and show just how tiny these were.

Alan saw a Langur monkey and kept on about it for the rest of the day because I only glimpsed its tail. Anyway, they were everywhere in India. Booked into the Sakura Hotel in Ghandruk, easily the cleanest and sweetest place we have been so far. But there was some complication about plumbing, which meant that Alan had a hot shower and once again yours truly ended up with a cold one.

Sager took us to the Ghurung (this word seems to be spelt in various ways, so forgive me if I am not consistent) museum where we saw old cooking pots and farm equipment. It was extremely interesting, but I did not like to ask Sager why it is a museum when all of these things are still in use.

Met a lovely German woman, a doctor who had been doing voluntary work for four weeks and was now rewarding herself with a trek. Just her and her guide. There were only the three of us in the hotel, so we had dinner together. Before dinner Alan and I tried the local brew, raksi. Some young folks who had stopped for refreshments at the time were looking at us in awe for drinking it and they kept glancing over, probably to see what effect it was having. I don’t know if it is a comment on our constitution or the skill of the brewer, but the large glassful we drank apiece did not cause us to collapse in fits of giggles or into our dinner. In fact, neither of us noticed any difference to drinking water! Except that water tastes better.

28^th November – Today’s walk from Ghandruk to Tolka was a real challenge. We had to descend one side of a river valley and straight away climb up the other side. Calling these things ‘valleys’ really does not do them justice. It took five hours of hard walking to complete and Alan had his first and only almost-serious slip of the entire trek.

As we descended, I saw a little girl clutching a baby goat. It was just so cute, I asked Sager to ask her if I could take her photo. He translated her answer – “Yes, but you have to give me 10 rupees”! She got 20 for her cheek, promptly dropped the kid, and rushed off presumably to show her spoils to her parents. I hoped we hadn’t created a monster, but something tells me this was not the first time for this stunt.

Another lovely scene was of a woman winnowing grain. The millet was being harvested at the time we passed through, so we saw its complete life cycle, from growing in the fields, to drying in various places (but usually each home had a flat yard affair for this), to beating with sticks to remove the grain from the stalks, to placing in these large flat baskets for winnowing. The contents are poured gradually from the basket and the chaff blows to one side, whilst the grain drops straight down into a heap.

Heads of sweetcorn hang from every ceiling where they eventually dry out and are used for popcorn, which is very popular, or to make corn bread (of which we have become too fond for the good of our waistlines, as the method of cooking is by frying).

We were extremely relieved to make it to our stop for the night, Tolka. I was not relieved, however, to have yet another cold shower, this time with water that was so icy it made my head ache. Little wonder I awoke in the early hours with a sore throat, prelude to the cold I am nursing as I write. One of the compensations was the beautiful singing that lulled us to sleep. In the morning we found out that some of the local girls were singing with the porters, who provided the percussion section on the table top. It was very beautiful and sweet and in sharp contrast to the ‘produced’ stuff that we hear blaring from music shops and some of the hotels in Pokhara.

29^th November – The day almost started with another cold shower, except for Alan’s intervention. With a cold coming on, I was sort of losing my sense of humour about freezing showers. Still, it got sorted and I had my hot shower. The whole issue of Beverley and her cold showers had become the source of some amusement amongst my male travelling companions. Alan always seemed to get lucky while I lost out.

This was our final day and it turned into a bit of a slog. We had not slept well, despite the tiredness. In the busier teahouses/hotels/whatever-you-care-to-call-them, we were constantly disturbed by people, and no doubt caused disturbance to them in return, when answering each call of nature. Due to the fragile construction of the buildings, every footstep caused the bed to bounce. The regular squeak, squeak, squeak, thunk of reluctant door bolts was also a feature of nightly ablutions.

Knowing we were so close to the finish line, I think we allowed our inner metal to weaken and were were both quite alarmed at the severity of the ups and downs that took us eventually to Kahre and our taxi. Almost too tired to celebrate, we were however pleased that Ram, our man back in Pokhara, had arranged for a 4x4 to pick us up. I think he had received some encouragement from Sager to do so.

We were not sad to return to our hotel for a reliable hot shower and change of clothes. Deciding to leave the admin until the morrow, we headed out for a celebration meal and sat at a table right up against the open fire that had been the prerequisite for our choice of restaurant. We had a lovely meal and our first glass of red wine for many days.

Looking back on the past six days, we were both glad to have done it. We enjoyed spectacular views of mountains that some people will only see in photographs or from an aeroplane. We met some amazing people living a life that is sustained only through their own sheer hard work, and saw resourcefulness and recycling that our Green Party can only dream about. Of course there are contradictions, such as the crisp and biscuit packets dropped by the path on an otherwise unspoilt mountain top. The evidence seems to point, sadly, to the locals rather than trekkers as the litter increases near local villages.

We also smiled at the changes in us: Alan choosing to leave his razor at the hotel and growing designer stubble; drinking tea with sugar in it for energy and enjoying it; drinking tea with milk and spices and sugar in it; swooning with pleasure at a room with wooden walls infested by woodworm, but clean; not caring about being seen with morning hair and puffy eyes on the way to the communal shower; and accepting communal showers!

Some of the climbs were extremely challenging and, for Alan, the downhills even more so. He is living proof that people with bad knees should have them replaced when they can, as he could not have even walked to the start line for this trek beforehand.

Although we will probably never take on anything so challenging again, we are enthused about getting out and doing more walking in the future. We would not have missed this experience for the world.

Photos - sorry, rather a lot but I just couldn't help myself!

23rd November - We will be out of touch from 24th to 29th inclusive as we are going trekking in the Annapurna foothills. Family - please don't worry about us as we will be accompanied by an experienced guide and porter. Note that any comments posted during this time will not appear until I next get in front of my computer. I look forward to updating you then.

22nd November - Today we drove up a very big hill in the back of a long-wheelbase landrover carrying 15 (I kid you not!) people and several parachutes (before anyone corrects me, I know they should be called 'wings' or whatever, but they are just like big oblong parachutes to me!). The drive was one of the usual switchbacks with other vehicles and  obstacles to be overcome. As we lurched about in the back with only glimpses of the precipitous drops, Alan and I both thought it was just like being on exercise again. Especially when the vehicle leaned almost to tipping point.

Anyway, by the time we got to the top I was ready to jump off even without a parachute to avoid doing that journey again. We were paired off with our instructors for a tandem jump, mine was a lovely Brazilian girl called Didi, Alan got a Macedonian farmer called Perot or something like it. I think he had a paragliding licence. Unfortunately there was not much lift and we could not do the one-hour cross country trip that we had planned, however, Didi was a great pilot and we found quite a bit of lift, albeit in one area. Alan took off after me and Perot made an error of judgment, turning away from the best thermals.

Although I managed to get a few photos of Alan in the air, it was soon apparent that he would land well before me. Didi and I hung around the ridge for a while, then I suggested we go instead and do a spiral (I'd watched from the ground in Pokhara far below and was very jealous of people doing this ultimate fairground ride!). So we went out over the lake and Didi said to set my camera to video to get some crazy shots. In my excitement I switched off the camera just as we started the manouevre, but I managed to take charge of my equipment once more in time to catch the last few seconds of the spiral as well as some of coming in to land. Unfortunately this site doesn't allow me to post video, but I might get it on to uTube eventually.

Wow! What a great experience! If you ever get the chance to do this, take it. After landing Alan and I went to celebrate with a nice lunch and got in a conversation with a Welsh couple, and their daughter who was here doing research into disaster recovery. They were really interesting and afternoon became evening as we watched sunset over the lake. I hope the photos will do it justice.

Photos

20^th November – Yesterday afternoon turned into a bit of an admin nightmare! I had not been able to use my debit card since arriving in Nepal. A little bit my own fault because there is a facility to go online and inform your card provider where you are going to be abroad so that they don’t block its use. I had gone online before leaving India and tried to change the Barclaycard credit cards we hold from ‘India’ to ‘Nepal’. They didn’t have a Nepal option, so I just left it at ‘India’ and they have both been working fine here.

Of course, I thought that Barclays Bank, for our debit card, would be the same story, so I didn’t bother trying on the painfully slow internet connection I was on at the time. Wrong! So, not only did I end up being unable to use my debit card, I could not log on to our online account. Alan left me doing the rocking back and forwards thing in some cafe whilst he went plodding off to find a solution. He came back and led me to an internet and telephone place where the very helpful man suggested I try Skype – why didn’t I think of that! Well, I managed to get on to someone somewhere in India, who had to put me through to someone else in India, who thankfully put me through to a nice English voice that was easy to understand and which understood me. Peter (his name) soon sorted me out and gave me a number to call, reversing the charge, should I end up in this situation again.

Celebrated with a nice meal in a cafe called Moondance, one of many places offering free wi-fi (why doesn’t Barclays Bank have its call centres here rather than in a country – India - where it is hard to even get a steam-driven internet connection that works properly?????). Lots of the cafes and restaurants also have big open fireplaces in the middle of the room. Although it can be a bit smoky, it is also warm and very atmospheric. Love it!

This morning we had a good conversation with Ram, who runs the hotel with other members of family, about trekking and stuff. Later we will meet a couple of guides so that we can choose one to take us trekking. How embarrassing, why don’t we just meet one. It’s going to be a bit like ‘Nepal’s Got Talent’ or something. “Okay, Krishna, show us what you’ve got...Sorry Sada, you’re not quite what we are looking for.” Also, Ram has invited us for dinner at his house tomorrow night. Wonder how much he wants and what for.

Today we plodded about doing some shopping, having lunch, and going for a paddle on the lake. A real chill-out day as we intend to do some walking tomorrow.

21^st November – Caught a row boat across to the other side of the lake and completed the one and a half hour trek to the ‘stupa’ religious monument on top. An arduous walk with almost constant steps. Apparently the first TWO DAYS of the trek we are considering is much the same!

Beautiful blue sky today and some better views of the mountains, however, the boatman told us that you can only see them clearly after it has rained, clearing the dust from the air. Apparently there are some great reflections of the mountains in the lake during these conditions. I wonder was I the only person in Pokhara today praying for rain?

This country provides a colourful reminder that many of our garden and house plants originate in these regions. Poinsettia grow wild, to the height of small trees. Another plant with a small purple flower that looks like a solanum grows wild, too. Also I’ve seen several forms of tradescantia (spelling?).

[William – managed to get you one very poor shot of a wee plane. It looked like a little yellow gnat, probably a sightseeing one. Also saw a big helicopter, again not sure what it was. Maybe a Russian make?]

As we were coming down again, this tiny little wizened woman carrying a big load of grass asked if we wanted to take her photo. Alan insisted I have my photo taken with her, even though the hand goes out for rupees afterwards. I’m thinking of trying this as a job when I get home. Alan could save me some lawn cuttings to stick in a big basket on my back and I could stand in Leighton Buzzard Market Square charging people to take my photo. [Sorry, Alice and Steve, I think I’ve just found my new career!]

After our descent we decided to walk out to one of the sights mentioned in the Lonely Planet. This was a waterfall where some Swiss lady is supposed to have fallen in and her body was not found for many days because the river disappears into a very deep sink hole and does not reappear at the surface for several hundred yards.

The walk out there, for what was probably very impressive in the wet season, but not so good in the dry, was simply not worth it. I didn’t even get my camera out of my pocket. We couldn’t face the dusty walk for about a mile and a half alongside a really busy road back to the civilised area where we are staying, so caught a taxi. Great practice for trekking, what?

It does strike me as odd that a town famous for trekking has so many taxis!

Photos.

18^th November – I don’t often disagree with Lonely Planet, but I have to on one matter. The guide for Nepal quotes some readers as saying that the country is the same as India but different. When we were about 1km out of Sonauli we started noticing major differences. Although there was still a little bit of rubbish in some of the drains, the verges were nicely swept, houses were brightly painted and quite well maintained, and many had gardens.

There are more western-style shops where people can go inside and browse. The clothing is more westernised and women appear to have the freedom to choose this style of dress, too. The faces are different, with those high cheekbones and smiley eyes.

But above all is the cleanliness by comparison with the India that we saw. I am happy already – how happy will I be when I see the mountains??

About 30km from Sonauli we arrived at Butwal, where the Mahabharat Range starts quite suddenly and spectacularly behind the town. Sadly our first view of mountains was a bit obscured by the morning mist, but the sun was breaking through as we started on the winding, steep road that runs for 110km across the range to Pokhara.

Once again we had to say that the agent who persuaded us to go by car rather than bus had been right. The road was incredibly bumpy and treacherous, and the buses are not tourist ones, they are just local. I saw later the speed they were travelling at and was so glad we had not put our lives in their hands – near the end of our drive we saw people standing looking over the edge of a precipice hundreds of feet deep, where a lorry had recently gone over.

At first, as we negotiated a part of the road that was being repaired following a major rock fall, I felt a bit concerned as I don’t like not having control of the car myself (ask Alan!). But it became clear very quickly that Raju, our driver, was not only confident but competent and soon I was able to stop looking at the road and transfer my attention to the beautiful scenery. Central to the early part of a the drive was one of those spectacular mountain rivers with opaque, blue-green water that sometimes spreads itself out on a stony plane, or squeezes between massive boulders.

It is amazing how hardy these people are. Their houses are poised on thin stilts on the steep valley sides and the walk to work is along paths that would require us to get kitted up in the latest North Face gear, maybe taking a guide for good measure.

In one of the little villages Raju pulled over and said “lunch”. With that he disappeared into what looked like a private dwelling with an open front. We sort of hung about a while wondering what to do. Then we noticed tables and chairs in the dark interior, so we ventured in. I needed to pay a visit, so was pointed out the back, where I took some steps down the steep side of the valley, past a smiley lady doing clothes, past a tiny monkey in a tree eating what looked like a string of beads, and into an outhouse marked ‘toilet’.

Enough said on that, except that even though it was still a far cry from a western loo, I didn’t mind! Maybe something to do with being in these beautiful mountains surrounded by smiley people.

Lunch was whatever was being cooked, which turned out to be small chunks of fish fried coated with a lovely seasoning and fried in a wok. This was accompanied by a thali, the dish consisting mainly of rice, lentils, vegetable curry and a small amount of hot pickle. It was delish!

About halfway through the journey we had our first glimpse of the snowy peaks of the Trans Himalaya range. And when we arrived at Pokhara and saw the lake, on one side of which the town sits, my cup of happiness flowed right over and into next week! Apologies for the poor quality of the photos from our journey. This is mainly due to the bumpiness of the road, honest!

The hotel, our final link with agents, was very disappointing, but we spent a pleasant afternoon first listing hotels using the Lonely Planet guide to narrow these down, then looking at rooms, and finally choosing the hotel (the Grand Holiday) that will be our base for the next three days at least. We intend to use these days just to relax, get washing done, wander about, and do some short walks to get ourselves ready for some trekking in a few days’ time.

19^th November - Pokhara is quite touristy – it is geared towards the trekking trade and naturally it has all the shops to cater for this, plus some. But it is clean, our new hotel that we moved to this morning is bright and clean and cheerful. And we have a view of the mountains! I have included a photo in the gallery, but unfortunately they blend in with the clouds and you may not be able to make them out. I will make sure I get a clearer photograph and then talk you through their names.

Photos