Nepal (Part 1b)

March/May 2000

The night before we left Lukla was the Nepalese New Years Eve. They were celebrating the arrival of 2057AD. The Buddhist clock is obviously running fast. Not much of a party since it's difficult to get drunk on their local beverage of yak vomit, though at high altitude, any alcohol seems to have a kick. I wondered if their few computers had a Y2K problem back in 1943! The 'Kathmandu Post' complained about the government corruption in society. A more interesting story was of the 26 year old unemployed Japanese man suspected of wearing squirrel and other animal costumes (a horse for example - how does he wear 4 legs?) to lure teenage girls and molest them at his home. (why didn't I think of that?). Guy obviously sounded like a nut! (ho-ho).

Recently I also heard the conclusion of a Pakistani story that was underway when we were there. A serial killer was convicted of killing over 100 boys in a 2 year period (he obviously had a lot of time on his hands). Found guilty, the judge pronounced that his sentence should the same as his victims. Consequently, he will be taken to a public place and hanged. Then his body will be pulled apart limb by limb and dissolved in acid. Who says public entertainment in Pakistan isn't fun.

After returning from Lukla, we holed up in the capital city for a spell awaiting the arrival of an American friend who decided to come and do some trekking with us. It was a strange experience to stay in one hotel for 10 days. After 140 days of continual travel we had suddenly stopped. Despite the fact that they were building a new bank right next to the hotel, it was very comfortable (en-suite, very hot showers, satellite TV) all for $2.50 a night each. We lived on the 50% bakery discount after 10pm until cold pizza bored us stiff.

Having so much time on our hands was strange. There were no early morning departures, no rush to catch trains or buses. No looking for somewhere to stay and eat. No urgency. It took me awhile to adjust. I wanted to keep moving. But it gave my body a chance to repair itself. Tiger balm and Lipsel were liberally applied. Everything we owned also went to the laundry.

The days were very hot and sunny, but sporadic thunderstorms would appear in the late afternoon and wash the place down. There were also regular power cuts (the glacial runoff is not enough yet to keep the hydroelectric plants going full-time). Staying in one place, you start to visit the same places to get your supplies and become regular customers. Nevertheless, we were still victims to the street touts and stall owners who assumed we were new in town. How do you explain that you will be in Nepal for two months and that there is no rush to buy their merchandise?

We spent the time exploring the sights of the Kathmandu Valley. Many centuries ago, there were three independent city-states - Kathmandu, Patan and Bhaktapur, which lavishly decorated their centres with temple complexes (all called Durbar Square in each place). We had already visited Bhaktapur. But there were plenty of Hindu and Buddhist religious temples, stupas and shrines to visit by taking cheap buses (4p a ride) from the downtown bus stand. No luxuries like taxis for us!

We spent one day walking around terraced fields of nearly ripe barley, about 6km outside Kathmandu. There wasn't another tourist in sight. At Budhanilikathna, we visited the 'sleeping Vishnu'. This Hindu pilgrimage site is based around the 7th century five metre long incarnation of Vishnu lying on a bed of snakes. There was a Hindu festival in progress. Groups of people sat around small fires, chanting and throwing rice and oil onto the fires. Groups of women walked around other shrines which were surrounded by small fires. Offerings of fruit and rice were laid beside the statues. Walking through the fields we came across another religious ceremony. The agricultural hamlets were dusty affairs full of cows, goats, ducks and endless dogs sleeping in the dirt.

At Bodnath, I spotted a barber and decided to get my first haircut in 5 months. The man made a good job using a sharp razor and scissors. After the haircut, I was subjected to a head massage which was painful but interesting. He ruffled roughly through my hair (as if to pull out anything loose), my eyebrows (ever had your eyebrows massaged?) and then attempted to crack my neck muscles a few times (failed - they were too tight after the trek). Bodnath itself had a magnificent stupa 38m high and 100m in circumference. The tour groups were here in large numbers because it was the largest stupa in Nepal. There were over a hundred prayer wheels in the wall around it which everyone turned passing around clockwise.

At Pashupatinath down the road, we entered the UNESCO protected World Heritage Site. This is the most important Hindu pilgrimage site in Nepal. The 260-acre complex contains almost as many temples and religious monuments. As non-Hindus, we were barred from the major 16th century temple. On the banks of the dirty polluted Bagmati River, we watched a cremation take place. A body covered in a shroud was laid on top of a log pile filled with straw. As the flames took off, the blackened two feet started to stick out of the fire. The mourners smoked and chatted as if it was an everyday occurrence. We didn't wait for the rest of the body to appear and hear the skull explode from the heat. The one sight we did miss was of "Mr Lifto", a man who lifted boulders up tied to his penis and stuck skewers through his scrotum and twisted them around. I did see someone's photos to prove he existed. People will do anything for attention.

The old city of Patan is now just a suburb of Kathmandu, but contains the finest 'Durbar Square' complex of the valley. This area is full of 14th -16th century monuments, temples and shrines, noted for their exquisite craftsmanship and architectural beauty. Consequently, UNESCO also protects it. There are apparently over 1,200 Buddhist monuments in the city which has always been known as the artistic and architectural centre of the Kathmandu valley. The sidestreets were full of craftsmen making Nepalese handicrafts. Despite the fabulous ancient centres of these ancient cities, one should note that the rest of these places were dirty dusty non-descript streets. Tarmac is obviously a luxury in Nepal.

We spent the day wandering around the fine temples, which were 2, and 3 storey pagoda buildings with copper roofs that shone in the sunshine. Special highlights were the “Golden Temple” the terracotta Mahabouddha Mandir with 9,000 images of the Buddha and the Rudravarna Mahavihara temple full of bronze and stone statues of elephants, peacocks, Garudas and lions. The city was definitely a 'must do' in Nepal.

At Swayambhunath, on a hill just outside Kathmandu, we climbed to see the 15th Century Stupa which is an important Buddhist site of worship. Known as the "Monkey Temple", we saw no monkeys hanging around, which was probably because there was a festival going on. There were hundreds of colourfully dressed women with large earrings and nose-rings walking around the stupa turning the prayer wheels and holy men (Sadhus) hanging around looking for donations. When we descended the eastern stairway, there were thousands of people ascending and descending. Hundreds of beggars lined the stairway. It was like leaving Wembley after the FA Cup final and I could see where the tales of "mass crushes" occurred.

Kirtipur was formerly the fourth "glorious" city in the valley. But there was nothing glorious about it. It was now an ugly little agricultural town on a hill. The women were thrashing barley and oats or washing their clothes in the streets. They obviously saw few tourists but smiled and said "Namaste". The only interesting thing in its past was that it took a Shah three attempts to take the fortress town (when he was attempting to unify the separate 'kingdoms' of Nepal). To exact his revenge, in 1769, he ordered the noses of all men in the town to be cut off except those who could play wind instruments. Apparently, the severed noses filled two baskets with a combined weight of 40kg!

As a final excursion, we caught a crowded local bus east to visit another UNESCO site - the Changu Narayan Temple. Its not until you have to stand, that you realise that the bus ceilings are too low, because the average Nepalese person is about a foot shorter than us. You have to stoop over and continually crack your head as the bus passes over unsurfaced roads. Walking through fields of potatoes, we had to cross a river to climb a hill. I took off my boots and waded across. Jo decided to find a bridge. I climbed up the hill through the rural village to find an exquisite deserted 1702 temple on top of the hill - one of the finest and most dramatic of all sights in the valley and not a tourist in sight. The skies had darkened and a thunderstorm was looming. I had enough time to explore the site and then shelter as monsoon type rain lashed down. How I laughed when Jo appeared twenty minutes later like a drowned rat. All that effort to avoid getting her feet wet and she was drenched. On the return journey, we stopped what we thought was a local bus, but was in fact a wedding party, taking the bride back to her parent's home the day after the wedding. They had seen two desolate looking tourists and took pity on us. Yet another example of Nepalese hospitality.

One morning, we visited the central post office to try and send off all the souvenirs we had bought. It involved custom inspection, filling out custom forms, declarations for tax purposes etc and then getting it all bound up in the cotton material as in India. After going through all of that, I discovered that it would cost $15 to send the parcel with the $17 postage on top. The stuff I was sending was worth less than the postage and I hauled the 7kg package away to be dragged to India and posted from there. Of course, it didn't occur to me that since Nepal has no sea, when you send anything seamail, it is sent to Calcutta, the nearest ocean.

After 10 days, I was beginning to tire of Kathmandu. The narrow streets of Thamel were full of bicycle rickshaws, motorbikes and taxis that honked and caused traffic jams. They would drive as fast as possible through the crowds. On one street, a bicycle rickshaw sideswiped me. It bounced off my shoulder/arm and nearly toppled over. I came away with bruises. Ten minutes later, a taxi drove into the back of my legs. There were also electrified "tempos" (communal rickshaws holding half a dozen people), in an attempt to cut the pollution. The "Kathmandu Post" reported, however, that all anti-pollution attempts had failed to improve the situation.

On April 21st, I caught a bus to the airport to meet Patrick who had flown from Oregon, via Seoul and Singapore to Kathmandu. The airport was being rebuilt. There was no arrival hall and I was forced to wait on the pavement with the taxi drivers and hotel representatives. "Welcome to the third world" I yelled and said "I have your limo waiting sir" as I walked him out of the airport to catch a local bus back into the centre. Taller than me, his head hit the ceiling continually.

I had met Patrick (then 30) in a dusty border town in Belize in 1995 on my "Mayan Ruins" tour. He had chosen Belize because "it's the only place in Central America to speak English". Initially worried, he had accompanied me to Guatemala. We avoided robbery from bandits and spent an enjoyable few days visiting the ruins at Tical and climbing volcanoes of 10,000ft. He had since made two visits to England, including last year on his honeymoon (only an American would check into a "Holiday Inn" in Perth). He had a couple of weeks holiday owing and with time off for good behaviour from his wife, decided to join us in Nepal. His wife Jamie and assorted family members were worried sick about him visiting such a "backward country", but he had persuaded them that if we had been "surviving" it couldn't be that bad.

An afternoon in Kathmandu for Patrick was enough. We took him to our local Nepalese bakery to try out the cheap delicacies and cakes and dared him to drink the local water. At Durbar Square, we visited the former "Royal Palace" and climbed the 9-story 18th century wooden Basantpur Tower for a view over the area. There was also a strange museum dedicated to the former, dead King, with artefacts like his stereo system, uniforms and animal trophies from hunting at Chitwan. A couple of hours of walking around the tourist district of Thamel and monsoon rain everywhere was enough to send Patrick to his bed.

Chitwan National Park was our first destination and we caught an early bus the next morning. During the journey, two trucks had crashed into each other, causing a major traffic jam of buses and trucks - about 100 in all either side. Everyone hung around awaiting the arrival of the local police who turned up riding pillion on the back of a local's motorbike. Consequently the 5 hour journey took 7 to cover the 120km journey.

Chitwan is the oldest (1973), best known, most developed and most frequently visited of Nepal's national parks. In the heart of the Terai area (which lies just above sea level), the park covers 932 sq. km and consists of swamp, tall elephant grass and dense forest. It is the natural habitat for the tiger, one horned Indian rhinoceros, leopard, sloth and wild bear and nearly 500 types of birds. It is also famous for its elephant rides.

It was very hot down here - about 35'C and mosquitoes were present. When we decided to walk the two miles from the busstop to the dusty touristy village of Saurala (just to try out Patrick with his backpack before trekking), we were covered in sweat. We found an excellent hotel - the "Rhino Lodge" and took a walk to the elephant stables and along the river side on the other side of which was the park. The sun setting lightened the sombre colours of the dense vegetation. We watched groups of tourists on elephants returning from the jungle. Then the storm clouds appeared and a torrential downpour commenced. As we sheltered beneath a straw-roofed hut, hailstones the size of golf balls started to hit the ground for the next 30 minutes. Its 35'C and I'm looking at hailstones? When it was over, we hit a bar for the 3 hour "happy hour" and bumped into Paul Dollar, an American we had met on the Everest trek and his Norwegian girlfriend Camilla.

As we ate on the first floor of the restaurant built on stilts, a wonderful thunder/lightening storm commenced, flashing in the darkness all around us. It lasted for nearly three hours and would occur repeatedly for the three evenings we were there (oh - its still raining - better have another cocktail). I had never seen so much power in the sky for so long. The town's electricity inevitably failed and we usually ate by candlelight. It was also Patrick's first experience of how cut off you can be in Nepal. The phone lines never worked during the time we were there and we were continually reminded "Oh, I'm in big trouble now. I said I would call her. She probably thinks I'm dead".

The five of us rented a jeep the next morning for a 5-hour ride over dusty tracks around the park. The advantages were that we could get a good idea of the diversity of the park and explore the whole area. The disadvantage was that the sound of the engine scared off most wildlife. We saw dozens of "dancing" peacocks displaying their plumage, a few langur monkeys in the trees, a rhino cooling in a lake. A herd of spotted deer crossed the road. The park's vegetation was dominated by a combination of sal hardwood forest, tall grassland and in the lower wetter areas - riverine forest. In the middle of the park was a crocodile breeding farm full of ugly looking snout nosed marsh muggers and gharial crocs.

In the late afternoon, Jo, Patrick and I rented an elephant for a 90-minute stroll around the jungle. We had to climb a 15-foot tall wooden staircase to board the Indian elephant with its bulbous head and sit on a padded 'howdah' on its convex back. The tiny trainer sat on its neck and used his feet behind its ears to steer. It was a remarkably smooth ride. The elephant was able to go up and down small muddy hills without throwing us out. We were in a convoy of a dozen elephants but our driver took us along different paths from the rest of the crowd. We came across half a dozen one horned rhino grazing and got excellent photos from a few feet away. They looked like they were covered in armour plating camouflaged in mud. I had never seen them in the wild. It was so peaceful to go tramping through the tall elephant grass, looking down on everything. We saw a barking deer leaping along. I hadn't had an elephant ride since Rotterdam Zoo in 1966 (when it was legal!). We all agreed that it was an experience not to be missed.

Some boring details on elephants: they eat about 300kg of food and drink 200 litres of water a day. The trunk has 100,000 muscles and can hold over 9 litres. When it takes a pee you know about it. It’s like watching the tide go out! Even if born in Nepal, they are taken to India to be trained and then return. Their trainer stays with them for their working lives of 40 to 50 years. They are lovely animals.

The next day, Patrick and I spent 9 hours doing a jungle walk with two guides. Within an hour of starting, we spied a rhino and the guides told us to climb a tree. Gradually, the large beast munching on grass, came closer until it was below our tree. David Attenborough stuff or what? They are generally solitary creatures with good senses of smell and hearing. But their eyesight is poor and they tend to charge anything if they are not sure. Their urine is considered a charm against disease and ghosts and the locals collect it. How? I asked. They find where the rhino had a pee, dig up the dirt and filter it out.

It was a completely different experience to walk through the jungle in silence, like an army patrol. The guides would motion with their hands if they thought some wildlife was near. I didn't expect to see any tigers (though they were around). It was very hot and humid and completely silent with only the sounds of Indian cuckoos and green parakeets which flew around. At a waterhole, we watched locals bring their elephants down for a wash. The elephants would lie on their sides in the water, while the trainer stood on the body and used their feet to scrub the skin. Then the elephant would get up, with the trainer still balancing on the back and use its truck to throw water over its back with the trainer still scrubbing.

We went in search of sloth bears, but they are very shy and we only heard them in the undergrowth as they took off. Then suddenly, we saw a large black bear plodding through the undergrowth. We circled around to get closer, got within 30ft, close enough to take a photo before the bear reared up and took off. The long walk added another element to Chitwan and we regaled our adventures over cocktails as the lightening storms set in. We were sorry to leave Chitwan. The tropical jungles were so unexpected after all the mountain scenery we had seen. But it was time to return to the mountains and give Patrick a taste of trekking.

Pokara, about four hours north of Chitwan is the most popular destination in Nepal after Kathmandu and is the starting point for all treks into the Annapurna mountains. Its fame rests on the natural beauty of its lakeside location and proximity to the mountains, but we just found another dusty, tacky tourist orientated town with all the western trimmings and not much to keep us there. In late afternoon, the mountains were covered in cloud and it looked like an average scene from Scotland.

We had decided to tackle the 'Jomson Trek' – an 8-day trek north of Pokara up the left-hand side of the 'Annapurna Circuit'. Catching a bus to Naya Pul, the end of the road and start of the trek, we had a wonderful view of Machhapuchhare (6997m) in the clear blue skies. Its peak stood out like an ice pyramid.

Essentially, on this, the most popular and developed trek, you are skirting around the high Annapurna range of mountains without having to climb them. We had chosen it to ease Patrick in. It was low altitude stuff with not too many hills. He didn't have our Everest trek fitness and within the first day, it was obvious he was struggling. This was due to a combination of factors. His pack was too heavy, despite me repeatedly telling him to leave anything unnecessary behind. As a computer desk-jockey, he had been sitting behind a desk for months with no exercise and he also had a stomach complaint (from Chitwan) which meant that he lost his appetite and hardly ate - and you need to eat a lot while trekking. "Shut up! I'll catch you up tonight" became a frequent response as he tired.

The immediate difference about this trek were the hundreds of mule trains being used to carry all the supplies into the mountains. Herds of mules and horses with packs on their backs hogged the trails and bridges. Their bells clanged in the distance. The lead mules would have decorated headdresses and large red plumes above their heads. Some of these mule trains knew the path so well, they just plodded along with not much supervision, but others, if they ever got the chance, would disappear into the forests to graze, leaving their Nepalese handlers forever rounding them up. It made a change from the yak trains but was just as pleasant. The trail was often covered in mule crap. I slipped on the stuff all the time, which was not fun while descending a steep part.

Yet again, I couldn't get over, how in Nepal, the road just stops and you start walking. You are suddenly cut off from the outside world. Promising to call his wife regularly, Patrick would soon discover that "Shit. There's no phone. Now I'm really in trouble".

The trail contained the usual posses of porters carrying unbelievable loads. When we crossed suspension bridges (some 100m long), it occurred to me that everything must have been lugged up on porters' backs - the metal posts, the cabling etc. Mammoth operations in human energy.

We started our ascent at about 1000m, through lush green river valleys. The end of the first day was a killer for Patrick. We had to ascend 3318 stone steps - straight up to Ulleri. Of the "I'll walk 15 mins and have a 10 min break or everytime I see a hill" type of walker, he arrived 90 minutes after me. But everyone struggled up that part. Upon passing 2000m he was heard to remark "Apple pie trek my ass, this must be a guerrilla training trail". We checked into the 'Namaste Lodge'(whose motto was 'You can see good mount').

Because the Jomson Trek is so popular with the average tourist/walker, the lodges were very upmarket (inside toilets, some hot showers if the solar power was working and western food – pizza and Mexican as well as the usual dal baht, noodles and rice dishes. All lodges in each village had an agreement to charge the same price for everything. So you just chose the lodge you liked and checked in.

Young Israeli trekkers had been getting a bad reputation for trying to haggle without remorse. We had seen it on the Everest Trek and they were in huge numbers on this trek. They tried to argue that they should not pay for accommodation (sometimes 20p!), because they were eating there. Since there were five of them, if they all ordered the same cheap meal (dal-baht), they should get 50% off. The lodge owners hated them and so did many of the other trekkers. They would stand and argue over paltry sums of money and then sit there smoking their western cigarettes, listening to their walkmans, pleased at the fact they had saved 50p that night. Everywhere I went, other trekkers were embarrassed by their antics. At one point, I said "If you can't afford Nepal, try Syria – that's really cheap!". One lodge had a sign outside. 'No dogs. No cats. No Israelis'. If it had been expensive, I would have seen their point. But it was easy to survive on less than £5 a day for room, 3 course dinner, pots of tea and breakfast. In all fairness, we did meet some nice Israelis who were embarrassed about the reputation they were getting.

With the extensive menus, there were many spelling mistake howlers . Here is a list of some of the dishes available. ('price per parson'). Breakfast: cornflock with milk, scamdle egg, screambled egg, spanich omelette , onoon omelette, tost (2 pics). Soups: pumpkim soup, pumpking soup, mushrum soup, egg nodle sop. Starters: egg myanosised salad, masahed potato, apple joice, woldrof salad. Main courses: spring rool, potato sprig roll, motton sandwich. Deserts: apple grumble, apple cramble, castard pudding, apple fitters (In the bakery at Namaste Bazaar we had seen peanut cooies, apple tunover, cheery buns and chocotale cake). Whatever the spellings, I was always impressed by the fact that such food was available miles from anywhere. And it had all been hauled in just for us.

The next day we continued to climb up through forests to Ghorapani (2775m). From here, you can climb Poon Hill (3210m), 30 minutes further up. Having left Jo and Patrick ("Oh god, not another hill. Take another step. Take another step"), I dashed up it to see nothing. The fine dawn views you get of the mountains were shrouded in cloud by the time I arrived mid morning. We had originally intended to stop here for the night, but it was only noon by the time we all sat down to lunch and I persuaded the dynamic duo that we might as well push on down to Tatopani where there were hot springs. "It shouldn't take that long". Big mistake. It turned out to be a long torturous five-hour slog down steep rocky trails (a full day's walk coming the other way), past extensive terraced fields. Gruelling on the knees. We left Patrick to make a much-needed phone call and didn't see him for 3 hours. He crawled into Tatopani 'dog-tired' as darkness fell around 7.30pm. We had arrived an hour earlier. It had wiped Patrick out and he just lay with his head on the table groaning while we ate excellent garlic steaks and ice-cold beer. Even I felt exhausted after that day. I didn't think he'd want to go on.

Tatopani (1180m) was a pleasant one street town set by the riverside in a steep gorge. It even had a 'Shoses polising and mending' centre. I went down to the hot springs at dawn and lay in scalding water for an hour (clear freshwater, with no smell of sulphur you usually associate with them). Patrick tried a new tactic each day from now on. He would skip breakfast and set off an hour before us. Our problem was that Jo and I usually took few rests, whereas Patrick needed regular breaks. We would end up hanging around, getting bored while he recovered. I usually ended up walking on. Mind you, Jo had a couple of problems. She had badly bruised her leg and also developed a case of the 'runs' and I would have to stand guard on the trail while she disappeared into the bushes for relief on regular occasions – the resulting dehydration drained her so this slowed us down!

The trek now started up the Kali Gandaki gorge, said to be the deepest in the world. The rationale for this is that between the top of Annapurna 1 and the top of Dhaulagari 1 (both above 8000m and only 38km apart), the terrain drops below 2200m. It was a spectacularly sunny day, walking past huge waterfalls. We had a short day and climbed to Ghasa (2080m) - a cultural and geographical watershed with much lower rainfall and inhabited by the Thakalis people. After Ghasa, the vegetation changed from subtropical trees and shrubs (including cannabis which we had been offered by locals on the trail) to mountain types such as pine, birch, juniper and cypress.

The following morning, the trail was packed full of mule trains. They charged along the narrow paths bullying their way past trekkers. At one point a side pack on a mule knocked me off the trail. It was a steep drop off the edge. A handler grabbed me by the backpack and pulled me back in the nick of time. Close call.

I had tried to offer to take some of Patrick's load to relieve him, but American pride held out. After tackling a steep hill to Lete (2470m) the next morning in hot conditions, he looked wasted and went to buy a drink at a stall. I had an idea! I would take his backpack and get going. Without the weight, he could walk at Jo's pace and since I would have to walk slower with two packs, they would catch me up - but give him a rest. Wrong! Even with his pack on my back and mine hanging off my chest - about 60lbs, I still walked faster than both of them and ended up carrying the bloody thing for 3 hours and nearly 10 miles. The reason was because we were now following a vast stony riverbed up the valley and there were no hills. I made rapid progress as Sherpas carrying their loads applauded me and yelled "Strong Man!". Since half of them were carrying 2,3 or 4 trekkers' backpacks from organised tours, I don't think they had ever seen a westerner do the same kind of thing.

From mid morning, a ferocious wind roars down the valley creating sandstorms. Fortunately the wind was behind me, but trekkers coming the other way with hats and scarves and sunglasses over their faces looked like they had just stepped out of the desert. After crossing various rivers over narrow lengths of wood, I pulled in at Tukucke (2590m) and waited. This was a strange place in the middle of the river bed which was originally the meeting place where traders coming with salt and wool from Tibet, bartered with traders carrying grain from the south. It was very picturesque village with old stone Thakali homes with carved wooden windows and doorways. There were a couple of brandy distilleries there so over lunch I tried the apple and apricot varieties.

Despite aching shoulders, I badgered Patrick, who had retrieved his pack, to make it to Marpha two hours further up the valley. The trail passed through desert-like country passing huge boulders. The scenery was high snow peaks, brown and yellow cliffs and splashes of bright green irrigated fields and flat-roofed mud houses. Marpha (2665m) was huddled behind a ridge for protection from the wind and dust. It consisted of flat roofs (to dry crops and store wood) and narrow paved alleyways and passages. Despite low rainfall, there was an extensive drainage system flowing under the flagstone-paved streets of this clean and pleasant village. It was another example how diverse Nepal could be in terms of the variety of tribal groups which inhabit it. Our lodge had the luxury of electricity, but inevitably with the light on, we still needed a candle to read!

It was only a short walk to Jomson, (2713m) the administrative headquarters for the region. It has an airport that most trekkers fly out of. It was like entering a windswept Wild West town. A wide dusty main street, where Clint Eastwood would have looked at home on a horse with a cigar in his mouth. One porter had a 7ft metal double filing cabinet strapped to his back. We kept going all the way to Kagbeni three hours north. The trail continued to follow the river valley. It was like walking through a desert. We passed a porter carrying 3 x 20ft lengths of timber on his back, widthways - he could hardly stand. We passed through the god-forsaken dust blown hamlet of Eklai Bhatti. The lodges were optimistically called the 'Holiday Inn' and the 'Hill-ton' The wind was so strong, that at one point I was blown off my feet.

Kagbeni, a green oasis at 2810m looked like a town from the medieval past, with closely packed mud houses, dark tunnels and rundown Chortens. The local women were wearing traditional colourful Tibetan clothing. It was formerly another important town on the old 'Salt Route'. From here we could look up the valley into the Mustang region (but not afford to go - the trekking permit costs $700 for 10 days. Our permit to do unlimited treks in the Annapurna area only cost $16). Many people were riding Mustang ponies as their only mode of transport.

A final morning of steep trekking took us up to Muktinath, the end of the Jomson Trek. On the way, there was another ancient, relatively untouched village at Jharkot with a wonderful maze of mud houses and alleyways. 11th century male and female fertility statues guarded the old town with their 'bits' prominently on display.

The walled temple complex of Muktinath (3710m) has been attracting pilgrims, both Hindu and Buddhist, for centuries. Its fame largely rests on a natural phenomenon that can be seen beneath the altar in a small run down temple run by nuns. We entered a dingy room to see a thin blue flame of natural gas that burns from a hole where there is also a tiny stream. The Hindus believe that this miracle of fire upon water was an offering made by the Brahma himself. We sat and chatted to the 5 nuns and ended up giving them an English lesson about parts of the body. They got a big kick about the fact that you have 'cheeks' on your face and your backside. They offered us tea before launching into a 30 minute chanting session. They had to repeat a mantra 108 times and had a small pile of barley to count them by. It looked hard work to keep it up, and they had to take turns in keeping up the rhythm, using a bell for timing - even more hard work for us to sit through it cross-legged. We had cramp by the end of it. But it was an hypnotic 'experience'.

Above Muktinath, lay the fabled Thorung La Pass at 5416m. It divides the 'Annapurna Circuit' trek in two and most people either just do the Jomson trek or tackle the 16-day trek from the other side. Patrick was ready to head back to Jomson having completed his first trek, but I managed to persuade Jo to stay an extra day and climb to the top and back without our packs. Since she had already climbed over the Cho La Pass (with her pack) on the Everest Trek which was 4 metres higher, I was confident she would make it. The guidebooks are full of horror stories - no water stops and that the 1600m ascent would take 6 hours up and was very tough. Even worse coming down.

We set off at first light at 5am the next morning. I had got so used to the hot weather, I went up in shorts and T-shirt and forgot to take any warm gear. It was freezing and my hands turned into frost-bitten rigid claws. The sun was rising behind us so it never warmed up for hours. We kept going up the endless climb - a rocky, slippery trail over barren moonscape moraine and false summits. Jo was over the moon herself to reach the pass in 4 hours and 15 mins. At 5000m the air was half as rich as at sea-level so much panting was involved. Two peaks rise up from the saddle of the pass - the Yakawa Kang (6482m) and the Khatung Kang (6488m). They were covered in snow but the pass was relatively clear of it. It was very windy. About 30 trekkers had climbed up 900m from the other side and were all huddled in their winter gear by a stone teahouse from the elements. They couldn't believe someone was up there in my skimpy gear.

The pass had outstanding views of high Himalayan scenes. In front of us, was a long ridge of ice capped mountains - the 'Great Barrier' that separates Nepal from Tibet. The 7000+m Annapurnas lay all around us and behind us, we looked down the Kali Gandaki valley with the fields of Kagbeni just about visible. We were standing on the equivalent of 4 Ben Nevises, 938m above the Matterhorn and 608m higher than Mont Blanc. The descent down was tough but manageable. We roared down in 2 1/2 hours. Lammageier Eagles soared around us.

The next morning, I had to do it all again with my pack. Patrick had left for Jomson the day before to fly back to Pokara (and return to all forms of human communication in Kathmandu a.s.a.p.) and now Jo was off to do the same. I wanted to go back over the pass and complete the 'Annapurna circuit'. I said I would try and do the 8 day trek from Muktinath in 4 days "because its all downhill from the pass"(wrong!) and meet them back in Kathmandu. This time, I wore my warm gear and familiar with the route I was able to ascend in 3 hours 42 minutes. Arriving before 9am, there were only 4 people on top because I had beaten nearly everyone up coming up from the other side. I heard a 'boom' and saw a huge avalanche fall off a mountainside. The snow hung in the air for ages.

Coming down was a different matter. The 900m descent was through snowfields and down steep icy rocky trails which were difficult to balance on. I reached the 'Base Camp Lodge'(the starting point for the climb on the other side) after leaving Muktinath 5 hours before (so much for the guidebook's "it will probably take you up to 12 hours to complete the climb and descent". But the next descent to the hamlet of Thorung Phedi ('foot of the hill'), 4420m at the bottom of the river valley was even worse. Unstable rocks beneath my boots, threat of twisted ankles and buggered knees. I was glad that I had not had to climb up it to do the pass from this side. At least it was warm and I was back in my shorts. But it was gruelling on my knees.

I ended up walking nearly 10 hours that day all the way to Manang. I had climbed 1600m and descended 2000m, which was a very long day's walk. The latter part of the day followed an undulating trail high above the river valley. Towering snow-capped mountains topping over 6500-7555m surrounded me. Manang was another windy town, where the trekkers holed up to acclimatise. Despite erratic power, various mini-video parlours had sprouted up to keep the westerners occupied.

The next day was a 12-hour slog all the way to Tal. Leaving Manang, it was a pleasant gentle descent following a river just below the trail. Early in the morning, at various Mani walls, local women had lit small smoky fires and were marching around the walls with prayer wheels in their hands. The country was very arid, dominated by weird cliffs of yellow rock eroded into dramatic pillars alongside the trail, and by the towering heights of the Himalayas across the valley. Endless streams of mule trains passed me coming the other way carrying supplies for the villages and lodges. The terrain changed. I walked through forests and pastures with horses, sheep, goats and yak crossbreeds grazing. There were also fine views of the dramatic Paungeda Danda rockface, a tremendous carved slab of rock rising almost vertically more than 1500m from the river. The river was milky in colour from the glacial runoff and got faster as the valley gorge narrowed. It was cluttered with huge boulders.

Huge landslides had removed parts of the trail and narrow makeshift dirt trails across them with long vertical drops were not good walking. One entire village had been destroyed by one 5 years back and was only just being rebuilt. In other parts, the trail was blown out of vertical rock faces with 200ft drops to the river and their uneven rocky surfaces meant that it would over take one trip/slip and goodbye folks! I crossed and endlessly crossed the river on long metal suspension bridges. It seemed to take forever and a day to reach Tal which I did before dusk.

Tal (1675m) lies in a valley right by the river (most villages are higher in the valley). It had a backdrop of a large waterfall behind it. I found a brand new lodge (20p a night)- opened that day, with no washing facilities, one squat toilet, no electricity and the slowest meal in Nepal. I slept in my clothes and left at 5.30am the next morning.

One more day of walking. I had bruised toes but worse (and certainly more embarrassing to report) was that my underwear had ridden up my backside and worn my buttocks raw! Even more embarrassing was being out-walked for the first time. When I set off on a very hot humid morning, a tiny porter with matchstick legs was carrying a 6ft x 3ft wooden table strapped to his back and a backpack on top kept up with me for 4 hours. I was moving as fast as my aching body would go. We climbed and descended rocky trails that were often flooded with streams, slippery, or dusty. Every time I got ahead and stopped for water or a photo, past he would come with this bloody table strapped on. The ultimate 'Duracel' porter. By 9.30am, I felt like I was dealing with 'the Terminator'. I couldn't lose him. I couldn't stop him. He hadn't stopped once, even for water. At Chamje, he passed me again and I conceded defeat for the first time in Nepal. Up until then, I could always out walk someone (admittedly some were carrying my bodyweight!) but not this time. I wonder what drugs he was taking! I licked my wounds over porridge, omelette and a pot of milk tea with a wonderful view of the valley and locals hanging out their washing on the suspension bridge. I never saw him again.

Plodding on, through the widening valley, the snowy mountains had disappeared. Towering terraced fields of crops dominated the scenery. There was one more killer in store. I descended to 1100m but had to climb up to a hill village Bahundandra at 1310m. It was straight up a dusty track and then straight down again. Trekkers starting the trail anti-clockwise, stop here on their first night.

As I descended, the monsoon weather also descended over the valley. No more views. Just low lying black clouds and torrential rain. I was already soaked in sweat so I just pushed on through the downpour, which lasted for two hours. The monsoon season was late this year, but it was getting there. I pitied the poor sods coming past on their first day out on the trek with the possibility of such weather every day for two weeks.

Finally, I reached the end of the trail at Khudi (790am), at 2.30pm, 9 hours after leaving that morning. I felt wiped out after 31 hours of walking in 3 days (ascending 1600m and descending 4550m) but fortunately, there was a four-wheel drive communal jeep to take me ten miles down along an unsurfaced road. Actually forget the word road, more like unsurfaced rock – I haven't been on a track like that since Honduras. At Besi Sahar, a crowded local bus took 2 hours to take me 40km to Dumre on the 'main' road between Kathmandu and Pokara where I waited until 9pm for an 8-hour overnight public bus back into the capital. For some reason, at 1am the driver just pulled up by the side of the road and went to sleep for an hour, as did we all.

I arrived back at the hotel around 6am, only 12 hours after Jo had arrived. She had walked to Jomson, where the plane had broken down and had to spend a night there with Clint Eastwood (when she went to run the hot water, she got electric shocks off the taps and there was no water to flush the toilet! – nice choice Jo). The early morning flight to Pokara got there after all the buses had left so she had to have a night there and it took most of the next day to get back.

The final week in Nepal was spent resting. Catching up on the email, eating a lot of cheap steaks at the Everest Steak House (£2 for a huge piece of meat with all the trimmings) and revisiting a few sights with Patrick. He couldn't wait to return to civilisation and got an earlier flight home (reduced to watching the American basketball championships on TV). It rained most days, giving us an excuse not to do much.

I attempted to buy new underwear (my original 4 pairs having been reduced to 1). In the marketplace, there appeared to be nothing large enough. The stallowner was not convinced, so I took off my shorts in public view and tried on the 'Large' size. I couldn't even get them over my thighs which considering your average Nepalese is about 5 ft high was not surprising. Then other stallowners dashed around trying to find larger pairs. For 15 minutes I dropped my shorts and attempted to get underwear on, as a large crowd gathered to ogle at the strange westerner who was obviously "too well equipped" to get into anything. Finally an extra, extra large pair fitted (just). I also bought a great custom made embroidered T-shirt which had a picture of the world and said "World Tour 2000 - The Ultimate Experience".

We visited the Indian Embassy where 200 other tourists waited in line. After a brief interview and filling out forms, our details were telexed to London. 5 days later we returned to find that Jo had been confirmed but I had not. The helpful official gave me a visa anyway and we were set to leave Nepal the next day. We had met a friendly Canadian, Jude at the Embassy and got talking. He was thinking of trying to get to Kashmir and we thought, what the hell, they may be fighting there, but it must be worth a shot. I had seen package tours being offered to Indians in the newspapers so figured it must be safe enough. It would have been nice to spend a third month in Nepal but it would have been more of the same. Why not visit a war zone instead?

So, in conclusion, I'd thoroughly recommend Nepal. Friendly people, very cheap and some of the most stunning scenery you will ever see. It will inevitably become one of the most popular places to visit in the next decade and the youth are already there for the 'scene'. There doesn't seem much point in not doing a trek when you get here, so get fit before you come. A three-week vacation that you and your body will never forget.

Travel - £72.02 (including $92 Lukla-Kathmandu flight)
Accommodation - £58.60 (lodges hardly charged if you ate there)
Food - £295.69 (where we spent trekking money. Also much beer and good restaurants in Kathmandu)
Other - £513.84
Total - £941.67

Grand Total - £2604.53