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.