A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Sunday April 19th, 1987

I awoke to find my feet peeping out of the tent! The tent had been pitched on a slope, and I'd gradually slipped downwards during the night! Thankfully, the foggy haze had cleared, and the sky was a deep cornflower blue.

Over breakfast, Dawa told us that he was ill and wanted to go back to Pokhara, on the same route we had walked. I was horrified because we hadn't seen one mountain yet, only foothills. To make it worse, Corrie and Matthew had no inclination to carry on, either, so I had a blazing row with them! The thought of going back and not seeing my beloved Fishtail Mountain filled me with horror. After all, I'd travelled 6000 miles to see it!

Fortunately, Dawa had a warped sense of humour and he was only joking! I could have killed him, but it did make me realise that no matter how tough the going was, I'd still put up with it to see my mountain. We set off in the sunlight, through the forest and climbed ever upwards. After an hour of walking, we came to a clearing and directly in front of us was the huge snowcapped mound of Annapurna South (23,684 feet). It was a knobbly mountain, the entire top half covered in snow, while the lower slopes were thickly forested.

Next to Annapurna South stood Annapurna I at 26,545 feet. All of us, suddenly presented with the beautiful vista of the two mountains, stood and gazed at them for ages. The view was certainly worth the hard climb.

After we had gazed at the scenery for long enough, we turned and resumed our walk through the forest, but we were soon to see the mountains again. It was in a forest glade with the Annapurna range opposite that our female porter gave me one of her golden rings. It fitted on my little finger perfectly. I thanked her through Dawa, and then she attached the pink rhododendron flower that Corrie had given me to my hair. 

We walked on through the forest, stumbling over huge tree roots. The sun shone above and dappled the fallen leaves that carpeted the ground. It was very peaceful and quiet, and I walked with Lakba, who chatted to me in hesitant English about his life in Nepal.

At midday, we reached a settlement of buffalo herders. They lived in straw huts on the side of the mountains, and the views from here were spectacular. In front of us, we could see the whole length of the Kali Gandaki valley in the dim, misty distance, and to the left, Macchapucchare towered above us in solitary splendour. The mountainsides were covered in snow, and the twisted "fish-tail" peak reached gracefully into the blue sky.

I had imagined seeing this mountain for so long that I just stood and gazed at it for ages. At 22,946 feet, Macchapucchare is relatively small, but the mountain appears larger because it stands alone and detached from the rest of the Annapurna range. Macchapucchare is a "virgin" mountain, although it was climbed to within fifty metres of its summit by Wilfrid Noyce in 1957. Out of respect to the local Gurung people, who revere the mountain as the home of their Gods, the expedition didn't set foot on the summit. 

The peak stands alone and is easily viewed from Pokhara in clear weather. However, we had to trek for four days to glimpse its beauty, but the effort was definitely worth it. The photographs I took certainly don't do it justice! Everyone in the party agreed with me and even Matthew had to admit it was "rather beautiful".

We stayed at the herders' settlement long enough to make the ascent up to 12000 feet where we were to camp for the next night. The climb was the hardest yet and almost sheer. It took an hour to get up to the camp, but the view of the entire mountain (Macchapucchare) was stunning. The snow-capped peak towered over us with not a cloud to hide behind. It was - literally - breathtaking! We had lunch sitting opposite the mountain and then we prepared to walk the last 2000 feet up to 14000 feet.

We said goodbye to our female porter, which was very sad. Another porter left with her and they returned to Pokhara.

A small group of us braved the climb up to 14000 feet: Dawa, Lakba, Ninja, Matthew, Corrie and me. We also had a very old Nepalese shepherd with us who walked up the steep climb as if he were strolling about on a Sunday afternoon! We climbed the 2000 feet in less than an hour and it wasn't as tortuous as I expected.

As we got higher, the mountains became closer and larger. Huge rhododendron bushes clung to the steep sides and soon they were the only greenery growing at the high altitude. Macchapucchare loomed to the right of us, while to the left the huge toweing peaks of Annapurna South and Annapurna I stood hunched over the lower foothills. Soon we had passed the tree line and the ground was covered in coarse, long grass.

Suddenly, we heard a roaring sound like heavy thunder and Dawa pointed excitedly to the side of Macchapucchare where we could see a huge avalance of snow slippig downwards. The noise was incredible, especially as the mountain was a distance away.

We came to a ridge that led eventually to Macchapucchare and walked along it, stopping several times to admire the incredible view. The mountains seemed to be looking down at us and the effect felt rather eerie.

When we reached 14000 feet, we sat down and rested. Ahead of us, a long way in the distance, we could see Pokhara, albeit very faintly. Behind us, as we sat, was a huge valley with a few small villages clinging to the mountainsides. To the left was the majestic arena of mountains, bright against the clear blue sky.

Ninja and Dawa

We lay in the grass, talking and basking in the sun. It was almost silent except for the wind rustling through the grass and the occasional call of a bird. The world below seemed far away and remote. We could go no further as the ridge above us was covered in clouds and they were also beginning to drift over the mountains. When a huge bank of cloud covered the sun, we felt chilly and made the decision to descend to the camp.

Going downhill was not so pleasant. We stumbled over rocks and tree roots and slithered over damp leaves. The descent was a mad, hectic rush and I could barely control my legs! As we sped past a beautiful rhododendron bush, Matthew stopped and picked me a red flower. It was gorgeous! We had another halt when Lakba, Dawa and Ninja spotted some wild garlic and spent half an hour picking it.

During the ascent to the camp, we lost sight of Ninja who had gone on ahead. We passed an enormous, strangely-shaped outcrop of rock. The local people had made a little altar and had placed rhododendron flowers on it. Dawa told us that the people believed their Gods lived in the rock, or that the rock itself was a God. Looking at the strange formation, I almost believed it, too.

We arrived at camp to find Ninja already there, and we sat drinking tea and eating biscuits. By now, we would fight over the last biscuit, normally breaking it up into three! I sat writing while Corrie, Matthew and Dawa made a fire with huge logs of wood that they'd found.

Dinner was eaten around the camp-fire which became very uncomfortable if the wind changed direction and the smoke drifted into your eyes! The sky grew dark and the vast silhouette of Macchapucchare kept guard over us. The porters joined us and Matthew gave us a graphic account of the film, The Fly.

The stars shone in the clear black sky and we tried to pick our well-known constellations. By 9pm, we were ready for bed and a good night's sleep!

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th , 1987 - May 5th, 1987

 Saturday April 18th, 1987

We awoke to a grey, overcast sky and a day of long uphill climbs through sub-tropical forest. Matthew and Dawa had cut themselves walking sticks and had spent ages after breakfast sharpening the ends.

We spent all day walking through the forest, and the atmosphere grew eerie and scary. Green moss grew on the strangely shaped tropical trees, and we saw huge rock formations that looked like brooding monsters.

The walk was hard and was virtually sheer in some places, up rocks covered in moss and leaves. Apart from the sound of our footsteps and the occasional call from one porter to another, the silence was absolute and weighed on us heavily. We saw no birds, animals or other trekkers at all.

Lunch was a hurried affair with no fire and no tea. We ate cold, mashed potatoes, fish, and large, rubbery chapatis, with the inevitable tinned fruit for dessert.

We were now at an altitude of 9000 feet, and I felt breathless and dizzy, but this only lasted for a couple of hours. After lunch, we climbed up through the trees again. There was no path; we had left that behind long ago. It began to rain, and then we heard the first rumblings of thunder in the distance. Matthew and Corries added to the dramatic atmosphere by relating stories of woodland murders back in England.

At around 2pm, we reached another clearing and made camp early. It was pouring with rain, so we retired to the tents and slept the miserable afternoon away. The thunderstorm continued all around us and grew steadily more violent as night fell.

We ate dinner early while outside, the thunder roared, and the lightning flashed. It was Corrie's birthday, and the porters had made him a cake out of biscuits and peanut butter. We ate this for dessert, then ran to the boys' tent, where we spent the evening.

At this altitude, the nights were cold, and so we sat in the tent huddled up in jumpers and thick duvet jackets. The rain beating down on the tent roof was starting to seep inside, and I imagined us waking up in the morning surrounded by pools of water.

The thunder continued all evening, and we talked and read by the light of a candle. Dawa joined us later in the evening and sat curled up in the corner, a rug wrapped around him and smoked with Matthew. At 9pm, I grew tired. Outside, the rain had stopped, and saying goodnight to Matthew and Corrie, I wrapped my jacket around me and went back to my own tent.

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Friday April 17th, 1987

I had an early awakening and enjoyed a cup of hot, sweet tea. It was a beautiful, hazy morning with soft golden colours and a touch of heat.

Breakfast was fried eggs, and we ate them gazing at the stunning scenery all around us. Last night, Corrie had made friends with two Dutch girls, and they had decided to join us. I wasn't too keen, to be honest; I liked my status as the only woman on the trek! However, by the time we had set off they were only just getting up and they never showed any enthusiasm for walking with us.

We set off up the path to the distant village of Dhampus which should have been where we were to camp last night. It was a two hour walk away and we'd never have made it last night. We passed several other trekkers on the way who were mostly American, as well as a few women on their own. I spotted a Tibetan house standing on its own on the hillside surrounded by prayer flags.

When we arrived in Dhampus, we stopped at a house selling cold drinks. It was here that I suddenly realised we had a female porter with us. We bought her a drink and she gratefully downed it in one. At first sight I thought she was about fifty-five but was shocked when Dawa told me she was only twenty-eight. I admired her strength and her happy disposition as she was always laughing and smiling.

We continued walking ever upwards. To the right, we could see the Kali Gandaki valley below thickly forested slopes. Ahead of us, a long way up, was tonight's campsite. I walked on ahead and found the route wonderfully refreshing as the path meandered underneath overhanging trees. We passed several other porters and a few parties of trekkers who looked tanned and healthy.

At one point we stopped for a rest near an outcrop of strange rock, which glistened in the sun as if it were made of some kind of precious metal. It was beautiful.

After a short climb we reached a tiny village and stopped for lunch. The sun shone down fiercely, and with Matthew's hat covering my eyes, I lay down and almost fell asleep! We stayed for nearly two hours and when the time came to move again, I found it very difficult to make my tired legs work!

We climbed upwards again, through dense forest, stopping several times to admire the view. Matthew decided that he wanted to try Ninja's pack but couldn't walk for more than about fifty yards with it on his back. Ninja was shorter and smaller than Matthew, but he carried the weight as if it were a light rucksack. Everyone found it amusing, and the porters were glad to be superior in carrying such heavy loads.

Our last drink stop was at a tea-house perched on the side of the mountain. We met a German party and these were the last Europeans we were to see for four days. The path next to the tea-house led upwards through the forest and, on either side, the land dropped steeply to the valley floor below. A dust haze covered everything like a thick fog and we weren't able to see the distant snow-capped peaks of Annapurna and Machhapuchhare.

However, the sun up above shone down on us and the green glades of the forest cooled us as we walked forever upwards. Within an hour we had reached a clearing in the forest which was to be our campsite for the night. Our tents were pitched on the springy, grassy slopes and two fires had been lit.

Matthew, Corrie and I lay on our bedrolls listening to music and chatting. Everything was peaceful and the smell of woodsmoke was strong. The fog-like haze surrounded the camp and made it seem as if we were on a green island in the sky.

I changed my heavy walking boots for sandals and explored the forest on the boundary of our camp. Corrie talked to the female porter and Matthew collected wood to make a walking stick.

After dinner in the blue tent, we sat around the campfire and Matthew smoked with the porters. Dawa handed Corrie and me a coffee with a large dose of Rum added and that did the trick for me! The stars overhead were bright in the black sky and the crackling fire and dancing flames made me want to stay forever. It was difficult to imagine that it was rush-hour back at home.

We had a great time with the porters that night. Ninja, Monay and Lakba were lying in the shadows, giggling and throwing sticks at me while Dawa was telling stories and singing. The female porter sang us a song as well. Everyone was relaxed. Fireflies danced all around us and Corrie ran after them! It was a shame when the fire began to die and we returned to our tents, looking forward to a good night's sleep!

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Thursday April 16th, 1987

And so begins ten days of early mornings and the sweet voice at 6:00 am calling, "Good Morning! Tea!" It was a pattern we grew accustomed to and found hard to break. Even now, I still wake at 6 o'clock, thousands of miles away, in a soft bed.

Soft beds were a world away then. We slept on thin mattresses with our sleeping bags and a down jacket for a pillow. After our first cup of tea, we'd be given a bowl of hot water for washing, and then we would pack our kit bags and eat breakfast as the sun rose over the mountains.

On the first morning, we all agreed that we could have done with another two hours of sleep! I had to brave the disgusting "toilets" on the campsite; the smells were unbearable and made me feel physically sick. I dread to think what a Health Inspector from the UK would say! I decided to wait until we were away from civilisation and take my chances behind a bush! 

When I got back to the tents, three taxis had arrived, and everything had been packed into them (or on top of them). Matthew, Corrie and I squeezed into the back seat of one of the cars again for the short journey to the starting point of the trek.

We attracted considerable interest as the porters sorted out the luggage, pots and pans, food and camping equipment. While this was being done, we spoke to a little crowd of village children who all knew how to speak English, and they posed for photographs.

Dawa (middle in white shirt) sorting out the equipment

Our only female porter

They were all, without exception, grubby and thin, but like children everywhere, they seemed happy and loved posing for the camera. The surrounding mountains were still covered by a permanent dust haze, and I began to worry that I would never get to see my beloved Fishtail (Machhupuchhare) mountain, the reason for my whole trip.

Finally, everyone was sorted out and we set off up the stony track that wound through the outskirts of Pokhara. We had our first encounter with Nepalese village life here, and also the interest that our appearance generated amongst children and adults alike.

The houses were generally very poor, and although they had been painted at one point, the paint was peeling and dirty. The centre of the street was obviously the gutter and I imagined that, in the monsoon season, it's permanently under water.

We saw pigs lying suckling their piglets in the mud, grunting at us as we walked past, and starving dogs barked from gardens behind the village houses.

Village house - Matthew, Dawa and Lakhba

Corrie

Rest stop

As we walked, we caught glimpses of the Seti Khola River, low, milky and coffee-coloured. We passed several young Nepalese women dressed in long red skirts and little blouses, carrying heavy loads up the track. Their long, black hair was plaited and tied with beautiful lengths of red wool.

It was hot, and Matthew, Corrie and I became thirsty and tired. We stopped several times, and both Dawa and Lakhba were soon well ahead of us. The cook porters - Ninja, Gavinda and Monay - had gone ahead, but the porters carrying our luggage were some way behind. I had so much admiration for the small men who carried such heavy loads on their backs and would then set up camp at the end of a long day.

All three of us would often sit on the low stone walls underneath vast trees that most villages had. It was, I suppose, a communal meeting place for the local people, and no sooner had we sat down than a group of children would run up and jostle each other to sit next to us. They loved to stroke my hair, examine my camera, or simply stare at us in awe. It took me quite a while to get used to the attention!

Before long, we reached a Tibetan refugee camp at the village of Hengja, and we stopped for a much-needed bottle of beer each. This proved to be a mistake as it made us tipsy, and all I wanted to do was go to sleep!

Minutes after our arrival, the Tibetan people descended and showed us their jewellery. We were all pretty naive, and the beer didn't help! I ended up buying a few pieces of Tibetan jewellery, including a set of beautiful earrings. It was lovely to be able to speak to Tibetan people; it was the closest I could get to the country*.

Some time later, we tottered back up the track feeling happy and giggly, and I felt relaxed for the first time in ages. By this time, we'd caught up with Dawa and Lakhba, so we chatted to them about their views on religion and Buddhism in particular.

I continued to admire the houses, which, as we walked further away from Pokhara, became more rustic and tropical-looking. Many of them were built from red clay and had thatched roofs. The windows simply had wooden bars, no glass at all! The countryside was green and beautiful, and some parts reminded me of rural France. Only the children made me realise I was actually in Nepal.

After three hours of walking, we came to the Kali Gandaki valley, which was dry, long and wide. On either side of the valley, the land rose steeply, up to about 2000 feet. The surrounding hills were covered by forest. We walked through paddy fields terraced into the sides of the hills and stopped next to a small village.

Soon enough, we were joined by two men who played a sweet song on their crude violins. One was older and wore the traditional dress of a Nepalese: he had a white sort of sheet wrapped around his waist, which reached his knees, an old shirt and an even older green, cotton jacket. On his head, he wore a Nepalese topi cap. The younger man wore jeans and a jacket.

The porters served us lunch, as well as tea and orange juice. Dessert was apples, and we gave these to a little Nepalese boy who stuffed them into his mouth and pockets. Soon, we were joined by other children who must have just finished their school day. They asked us for pens and sweets and showed us their English school books.

In the blazing heat of the afternoon, we walked along the arid Kali Gandaki valley. We were passed several times by trains of donkeys that carried water and rice from village to village. They wore plumes of feathers on their heads, and little silver bells jangled under their chins.

The dry Kali Gandaki valley

The dusty track wound forever on, and my rucksack began to feel like a load of rocks. We stopped mid-afternoon at a tea house that also sold bottles of Coke and lemonade. I was still ignorant of the Nepalese way of life and asked Dawa if there was a toilet in the teahouse. There wasn't, of course! Such facilities are unheard of outside Kathmandu. It was back to nature for me!

Back on the track, the heat was stifling. Matthew went ahead and turned right up the path that led to the top of the ridge. We sat and rested on the hillside, and I decided to go first up to the top. The climb was steep, but there were steps cut into the side of the mountain, which helped. I started well ahead of the others, but Dawa caught up with me on the last steep climb, and we had a race to the top!

I collapsed on a stone wall at the top, which was next to a farm selling cold drinks in a kind of café, which overlooked the valley below.

There was a large, flat area nearby, and this was to be our campsite for the second night. Some time later, Matthew and Corrie arrived, breathing heavily and collapsed in a heap! We were exhausted, dusty and thirsty, and this proved to be the rule for the trek!

Lakba set up the tents for us, and we had a cup of tea. I cleaned my face, which was caked with sweat and dust. Ugh! The local children hung about the camp, being mischievous and were occasionally chased away by Lakba's good-natured scolding.

Matthew and I sat talking in the tent before being called in for dinner in the special dining blue tent. By now it was dark, and I almost fell down one of the terraces. Tripping over the guy rope of the tent prevented me from getting a twisted ankle, at least.

I went to bed early, but everyone, by 8pm, had the same idea! We all needed a good night's sleep!

* After seeing the film Lost Horizon when I was a child, and being captivated by the idea of a Shangri-La in the Himalayas, I originally wanted to travel to Tibet, but the difficulties of accessing this remote country made me decide to go to Nepal instead.

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Wednesday April 15th, 1987

I went to the Encounter Overland office at 7.30am and found Matthew there already. He told me that Corrie was better, but he didn't know whether he would be going on the trek or not. Raju appeared and gave us our trekking permits. He suggested we go and have breakfast, but I ate some chocolate instead. Nothing could induce me to visit that restaurant again!

With everything packed, there was nothing to do except wait. Darwa, the head Sherpa, arrived, and at first sight, he appeared moody and grim (our opinion of him was to change drastically over the next few days!). Corrie then appeared looking pale and certainly not fit enough for a ten-day trek.

Whilst waiting, we had a look at the new Encounter Overland brochure, and I read with interest the planned Trans-Globe expedition in 1988.

At about 9.00am, Raju informed us that we were travelling to Pokhara by taxi. The journey would take six hours with a lunch stop in the village of Mugling. Corrie, Matthew and I were squashed in the back of a small white Japanese car. On hearing that I liked The Psychedlic Furs and The Damned, Matthew played his tapes very loudly on the car stereo, much to the obvious annoyance of Darwa and Corrie.

We left the noisy bustle of Kathmandu behind and drove out into the countryside along winding mountain roads with sheer drops. The car veered around the bends, dangerously close to the edge! The road surface was bad, with enormous potholes and piles of rocks everywhere.

However, the scenery was beautiful: terraced fields on the mountainsides and small clusters of thatched houses. We followed the Trisuli River for most of the journey, and little did I know that two weeks later, I'd be rafting on it.

We stopped at a police station, and a group of little boys appeared and tried to sell us sweets. On the road, we saw a lot of traffic, mainly consisting of brightly-coloured, ancient lorries, and even older, overcrowded buses. The lorries had tinsel hanging in the windscreens, and the cabs were invariably crowded with Nepalese people travelling from Kathmandu to Pokhara. Overtaking them was scary at first, but we grew used to it!

Sitting in the back of the car was uncomfortable, hot and cramped. I was sitting in the middle, so I was able to stretch a little, but we stopped several times, and we were able to get out, walk around a bit and gaze down at the river running beneath us. The heat was intense.

Corrie having a breather.

I had expected the landscape to be dry and barren, but it was lush and green with beautiful trees lining the road and the occasional cannabis plant growing by the roadside. We passed numerous villages where the houses were thatched but poor. Children ran around, and we dodged innumerable cows which were wandering freely.

We arrived in Mugling at about lunchtime and stopped outside a hotel/restaurant. The place was filthy, and after taking one look at the food, I decided against eating. We aroused considerable interest, and Corrie was singled out by a toothless old woman who shouted at him in Nepalese! Dawa told us she was the village idiot, and we all thought it was highly funny!

Rest stop on the road.

The road to Pokhara

Trisuli River

Matthew stretching his legs.

Mugling

Matthew bought a packet of biscuits and we ate them in place of lunch. A much safer option, we all thought!

We continued along the road, passing more beautiful villages surrounded by fields of sugar cane and palm trees. The small houses had thatched roofs, and enormous stacks of straw were lying on what looked like stilts. Skinny cows and dogs wandered everywhere, and dirty children squatted outside doorways, shouting to us as we drove past.

The Trisuli River was always on our right, and at one roadside stop, we saw two rafts lazily drifting down the river. The mountains were partially obscured by a heavy dust haze, and the heat was oppressive.

As the day wore on, we all became tired, and the discomfort caused by the bumpy road surface began to get on my nerves. We arrived at a village a few miles from Pokhara and had our permits checked. It was here that I first saw a woman begging. We were stretching our legs when she approached us, dressed in rags and holding her hands out. She was a pitiful sight with bloodshot, weeping eyes and I couldn't bear to see the look on her face, which was one of complete helplessness. Giving money to beggars in Nepal is forbidden, but Matthew couldn't help giving her a few rupees, and Dawa told her to go away. I felt guilt-ridden standing there with an expensive camera around my neck and wearing new, clean clothes. However, what could I do to make a difference in her life?

It was only a matter of minutes before we reached Pokhara. I'd read about this lakeside town in many books, all of which praised it, but to me, it resembled the outskirts of Kathmandu! It was different to how I'd imagined it to be, which was a bit like a Lake District town. I soon came to realise that Pokhara bore no resemblance whatsoever to a place in Cumbria, but was just another rundown, poor Nepalese town, albeit next to an area of outstanding beauty.

We drove to a campsite which seemed to be popular with Europeans and, in particular, German hippies and set up our tents by the side of Lake Phewa. The surrounding hills reminded me of the Cumbrian countryside, but the higher mountains were shrouded in haze, and I felt acute disappointment that we couldn't get a glimpse of Machhapuchhare and the Annapurna range. Had I travelled 6000 miles to see just hills?

Matthew, Corrie and I, weary from the hot, uncomfortable journey, collapsed in front of the tents and drank tea without milk, but with plenty of sugar. We surveyed the surrounding hills and speculated as to whether we'd be climbing them the next day. Our porters had put up the tents and were making a start on the evening meal.

Matthew and I walked over to the lake edge, and he decided to go in for a swim. I stayed on the shore as the water looked suspiciously murky; it made me wonder what strange Nepalese creature lurked in the depths!

Our first meal of the trek, cooked by the porters, was eaten in a little blue tent. We sat at a table, our only illumination a candle. Lakba served us soup, followed by meat and rice. There was plenty of food, so hunger wouldn't be a problem. After eating, we sat in the tent and talked. There was nothing else to do!

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Tuesday April 14th, 1987

I was woken at 5.45am by dogs barking and children screaming. I felt wide awake, so I wrote a few pages of my diary and then slept again until 8am.

Feeling hungry, I had breakfast in the restaurant next door. I ordered scrambled eggs on toast, but when the meal arrived, I immediately wished I hadn't! The eggs were grey and tasted sweet, so I only ate the toast. Ugh! The breakfast made me feel nauseous, and I paid the 9-rupee bill and left hurriedly!

I'd arranged to meet Corrie at 9am and make arrangements to call home from The Ambassador Hotel, but Raju told me he was ill. Hearing this, I began to worry as I dreaded the same thing happening to me.

Raju arranged a bike for me to rent, and I decided to cycle to the Ambassador Hotel. Following the map was futile, so I relied on my own instinct. The cycling was very easy; the Nepalese drive on the left, so I felt at home! I had to dodge the odd cow or beggar, but once I'd found the main road, I cycled fast and immediately found the hotel, which was beautiful and set in lovely gardens away from the main road.

I waited half an hour, and then I was able to get through to England. Unfortunately, it was 4am at home, but Mum and Dad didn't mind at all; they were relieved to hear from me! I heard them clearly, but they told me they could only hear half of what I was saying. Anyway, it was great to talk to them and let them know that I was alright.

After the phone call, I cycled past the Royal Palace and then back to Thamel, admiring the views as I went. Back at the Guest House, I bought water and Coke and sat in the garden, which was quiet, cool and peaceful. I read and decided to skip lunch. I preferred to go hungry rather than eat the food!

Today was very lazy; I slept in the afternoon, and then I went out to hire a sleeping bag and a kit bag for tomorrow. I packed and went back out to buy postcards. I was delighted to see Doug and Derek, and they invited me back to the Himal Cottage to see their room. It was a lot smaller than mine and extremely basic, but the view was better and looked out over old Nepalese houses and tall, thin palm trees. They said they would post my cards for me, and we arranged to meet for dinner, which I was pleased about.

I had a lovely, hot shower at the Guest House and washed my hair. The shower was a tap on the wall next to the toilet, and the water drained away through a central plughole. It was certainly an experience!

After my shower, I went back to the Himal Cottage and admired the view with Doug and Derek. For the first time, we could see the surrounding mountains. The Thamel area of Kathmandu is packed with restaurants, some good, and some not so good! We picked the Utse restaurant, which specialised in Tibetan and Chinese food and sounded safe.

We drank Jasmine tea, which I wasn't keen on and had chow mein and prawn soup to start. The food was delicious, and we ended the meal with apple pie. The bill came to just over 100 rupees, which was about £3.50... amazing!

We walked around Thamel, and I saw a beautiful Gurkha knife that was perfect for my Dad, but when I was told the price, 250 rupees, I said no and walked off. The man kept following me, varying his price, but I still refused. In the end, feeling fed up of being followed, I offered 100 rupees, which was accepted!

We carried on strolling around the shops, and various stall-holders tried to sell us Tibetan carpets. I bought a map of the northern area of Pokhara and Kathmandu in a fantastic shop that had hundreds of books about Nepal, India and Tibet.

Our evening was rounded off back at the Himal Cottage with a whisky and a discussion about Buddhism. Doug knew a lot about the religion, and the subject fascinated me. We had also learnt that today was the first day of the New Year in Nepal.

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Monday April 13th, 1987

I awoke to find a stewardess asking if I wanted any fruit juice. We were just over half an hour away from Dubai International Airport. Everyone was waking up, and the lights had been turned on. We landed at Dubai in the dark, but the view of the airport and all the lights was beautiful.

I said goodbye to the woman who had been sitting next to me and decided to visit the airport with the two men who had been sitting in the seats behind. Their names were Doug and Derek.

The outside of the airport resembled an Arabian palace and was made entirely of white marble. Tall palm trees surrounded the building, and there was an abundance of exotic flowers everywhere. We walked along a long corridor, lined with plants, and the white marble floors shone as if they were wet. The airport was luxurious but also very quiet. We ordered strong black coffee and sat down to marvel at the wealth surrounding us.

Before we were able to get back onto the plane, we had to go through an X-ray scanner, and I chatted to an Arab guard who carried a machine gun in his belt. He asked where I came from in England, and spoke the language fluently. As we emerged from the airport, the sun was rising over the desert, and the sight was beautiful. The airport shone, but I didn't dare take any photographs!

Back on the plane, I sat in the window seat and Doug sat in the aisle seat writing his diary. Breakfast was served, and we flew over the desert, where we could see oil wells burning, and then over the Persian Gulf, where we could see hundreds of tankers. After the Gulf, we flew over barren, desolate landscapes devoid of trees or greenery. I tried to sleep as my watch said it was 4am.

We landed in Karachi at 9am local time, and the heat hit me like a wave as I stepped off the plane. We were shepherded together by an airport official and taken to a transit lounge. Five of us were travelling on to Kathmandu. Thankfully, the transit lounge was air-conditioned, and we had a three-hour wait before our next flight left.

There was nothing to do but sit and talk, and Doug and Derek told me of their travels to South America and their cycling tours across North America. We decided to try the Pakistani coffee and sat sipping it while watching five airport workers doing a removal job with the transit lounge seating. They were directed by a large man wearing the local attire of a long white shirt and baggy trousers. They spent more time sitting and chatting rather than doing any work!

View from the transit lounge, Karachi Airport

There were several other European passengers, and they all looked as if they were headed to Kathmandu as well. We boarded the midday plane to Kathmandu after being rigorously searched. Surrounding each plane waiting to take off were armed guards with their hands resting on their machine guns at their side.

The aircraft was a smaller 737, and it was uncomfortably crowded. Thankfully, the flight wasn't long and I managed to get some sleep.

After three hours of flying, I could see a glimpse of the Himalayas, and I knew we'd be arriving soon. As we neared the airport, I could see the outskirts of Kathmandu clearly. Everything looked lush and green, and there was a soft golden light over the city.

Landing felt very strange. I'd wanted to visit Nepal for so long and had dreamed about what it would be like, so it was a weird feeling to actually be landing. It was hot, and we walked to the main airport building, admiring the range of mountains in the distance. I recognised the "Welcome to Nepal" sign from a photograph I'd seen in a travel book. I changed £60 in Nepalese rupees and passed through passport control.

Chaos and disorder reigned in the airport! We waited for our luggage to arrive, and I stood and stared at the groups of Nepalese men, most of whom were standing around holding hands. It was a complete culture shock!

Thankfully, my luggage, although slightly battered and dirty, was intact. Doug and Derek waited anxiously for their bicycles, which aroused considerable interest. We passed through Customs, and I said my goodbyes to them and wished them luck on their trip.

I emerged from the airport and was immediately set upon by a multitude of taxi drivers who all seemed to want to take me to a "Very good hotel, madam! Very cheap!" I picked one and asked him how much the fare would be to the Kathmandu Guest House. He told me it would be 55 rupees (slightly more than £1), and as we drove, he chatted away to me happily, pointing out the Royal Palace and telling me that the guest house was always busy. Luckily, I'd booked a room!

The noise of the car horns deafened me, and I was shocked at the poverty everywhere. The colours of the Nepalese clothes were beautiful, though, and I saw cows wandering around in the middle of the road. Everything was so strange and different, and I found it difficult to take it all in.

Thamel was crowded and noisy, and the streets were narrow and dirty. The Kathmandu Guest House was situated in the heart of Thamel, but was off the main road, so it was quiet and cleaner. Thankfully, they had my room booking, but I had to wait half an hour for it to be cleaned. A young man, whom I later learned was Raju, said there would be a meeting for those participating in the trek at 6 pm. Once in my room, I lay on the bed and felt homesick and alone. I dreaded the thought of meeting my fellow trekkers, whom I imagined would be very fit.

After a wash, I went downstairs to the Encounter Overland office and found Raju sitting at the desk. When I asked him how many were on the trek, he said there were just three of us. I'll never forget how amazed I was hearing this, and I immediately asked him what my fellow trekkers were like.

They soon turned up, and Corrie walked in first. He seemed as surprised as I was! Matthew came in next, and we all agreed that it was great to have just three of us. I was relieved it was a small group, and then it dawned on me I'd be the only female! We drank rum and Coke, and Raju told us about the trek and what it involved.

Outside, it began to get dark, and we could hear the crickets in the gardens. I liked Corrie and Matthew immediately, and they seemed to like me as well. I began to look forward to the trek even more. We all got on well and chatted easily, which was good seeing as we'd be living together for ten days!

At 8pm, I returned to my room and immediately fell asleep.

A Travel Diary - Nepal and the Himalayas: April 12th, 1987 - May 5th, 1987

Sunday April 12th, 1987

After weeks of worrying, I woke up this morning feeling much calmer. I tried not to think of what I was actually going to do too much!

The morning was spent polishing the floor at Studio One, the hairdressing salon, with Dad. Hardly a romantic start to my dream holiday, but it helped to take my mind off the afternoon. John wished me luck and said how brave I was, a view echoed by almost everyone I had told.

I was worried about the weather for some reason; I'd had a vision of sitting all alone at the airport with the rain pouring down outside. It couldn't have been further from the truth!

When we got home, there were two hours of frenzied packing, and I tried to remember all of the things I'd forgotten (including my international health certificate). I didn't feel at all ready to go when the time came to leave, and spent most of the journey searching through my luggage. I must have checked my passport and tickets a dozen times!

It was while searching for forgotten items that I couldn't find my passport photographs, which were vital for my trekking permit and couldn't be obtained in Kathmandu (they were actually hiding behind my travellers' cheques all the time, and I only found them when I was in Nepal!). Dad went mad and said I was hopeless. What else had I forgotten? I relaxed anyway, thinking I'd have no trouble getting the photographs at Heathrow.

Soon, we saw signs for Heathrow International Airport and my stomach flipped over! We parked the car and walked to Terminal 3, amidst crowds of people. Inside the terminal, I parked Mum on a seat with my luggage and went to find the PIA check-in desk. Next up was to find a photo booth, which was about half a mile away in the underground station!

On our return, we found that Jane (a close friend) and her family had arrived. They were excited and said they'd seen a PIA plane land. They assured me it looked safe!

I still had a long time to go before check-in, so we sat and watched the other passengers. The green luggage labels of PIA were everywhere!

When the time came to check in, I saw two men dressed in breeches and walking boots; they looked like they were heading to Kathmandu like me. I started to feel better, and Mum looked visibly relieved as well. Jane and co went up to the car park roof while we had something to eat. We saw the two Kathmandu-ish men, and they seemed pretty normal (I later found out they were called Doug and Derek, were attempting to get to Lhasa in Tibet by bicycle, and became firm friends!).

My parents

I spent an enjoyable half hour watching Jane and her family jumping about on the roof, while Dad talked to a friend he'd met who was seeing his brother off to India.

At 6pm, my flight number began to flash on the screens, and all the goodbyes began. It was sad, but I felt happy and excited at the same time. It felt great to walk down to passport control by myself! I turned around and waved to everyone, and then I was alone.

My bag was searched first, probably due to my stereo or scissors. I walked along a long, bright corridor to the huge PIA 747. My fears of being all along were unfounded. The evening sun shone on the plane, and the sky was clear. I took a photograph of the aircraft as it looked so beautiful against the sun, plus I'd never been on a Jumbo Jet before.

I found my seat easily and discovered I was sitting next to a girl travelling on her own to Dubai. Up until now, I had no idea we were stopping off in Dubai, but nonetheless, I was delighted. The two Kathmandu-ish men were sitting behind us, and when I turned around to talk to them, I found that they were cycling to Lhasa and would be away for seven weeks! How I envied them!

We were nearly an hour late taking off and queued to get onto the runway behind Concorde, which took off just before us. It was a beautiful sight. The cabin crew gave us lemonade to drink and newspapers to read, and I tried not to think about the approaching take-off.

We finally left at 7.30pm and flew off into the sunset. I relaxed and chatted to my neighbour. We were served chicken for dinner, and the meal was delicious. Sleep, I'm sorry to say, was impossible, but a film was switched on after we'd eaten. It was awful and called "The Wild Pony"! I listened through the headphones but kept my eyes shut.

It grew dark outside, and after the film, the lights were dimmed and the shutters brought down to cover the windows.