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.
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| Dawa (middle in white shirt) sorting out the equipment |
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| 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.
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| Village house - Matthew, Dawa and Lakhba |
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| Corrie |
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| 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.
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| 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.
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