France - The Loire Valley May 20-23 1999 Part 1

This is an account of a trip I took with my parents and Sophie to Chinon in France in 1999. Dad and I had given each other a row of vines in the village of Chaintres so we went to have a look at them and try the wine, a Saumur-Champigny!

The journey to Portsmouth started badly, in pouring rain and with a roof-box that refused to stay shut! Luckily a friendly AA man gave us a length of wire and Dad managed to tie it so it stayed closed. I didn't dare drive faster than 70mph though! A revelation for me!

We stopped at a welcoming village pub somewhere in Hampshire for dinner. Sophie slept through the meal and only woke up when we were about to board our ferry for the overnight crossing - The Duc de Normandie.

It took ages to board the ferry and we daren't risk going to the cafe in case we were called to embark. We eventually drove on at 10.30pm and found our cabins for the night. Sophie was a little nervous because of her obsession with the film Titanic and I tried my best to calm her down. Our cabin was very cosy, with a tiny bathroom and bunk beds. We had a quick wash and then squashed up together on the lower bunk. After a while the ferry began to move out of the port and the engines made a terrific groaning noise. Sophie started to whimper about Titanic again but after a few minutes she fell asleep and thankfully the noise of the engines stopped.

The crossing seemed very short and we were woken at 4.30am by a bell. I left Sophie in bed, quickly dressed and put some make-up on. I felt exhausted and could have done with another three hours' sleep!

My Dad made an appearance and we both went in search of hot coffee while Mum looked after a still-sleeping Sophie. The search for coffee proved elusive and the cafes were full of school children so we resigned ourselves to a caffeine-free start to the day. Even the coffee machine we found didn't work!

Thankfully we were soon back in the car and we promised ourselves a cup of cafe au lait at the first French cafe we came to. We drove slowly off the ferry amidst a long coil of British cars and we were soon on our way with my Dad navigating. We drove on and on with no sign at all of somewhere we could get breakfast as there was nowhere open and I didn't fancy driving into the centre of Caen just for coffee.

Soon we came to the small town of Argentan and we saw a sign for McDonalds. It certainly wasn't our ideal choice but by now we were desperate for a coffee and something to eat. We ordered Egg McMuffins, hot coffee and toasted muffins from a surly waitress but we didn't care! Soon afterwards another British family came in and I wondered whether the restaurant did a good trade from the ferry port.

Feeling better we were soon back on the road and heading for Le Mans. The weather was sunny and we looked forward to getting to our hotel and visiting the vineyard in the afternoon. The roads were almost empty and as we neared Le Mans we stopped for more coffee and pain au chocolat at a quiet service station. Sophie and Dad found a wonderful fountain and came back drenched!

At Saumur we turned off the motorway and headed towards the town of Chinon. There were vineyards along the side of the road all offering degustations (wine tastings) and numerous chateaux perched in the surrounding hills. The countryside was beautiful and we caught glimpses of the Loire river flowing alongside the road.

Chinon was a very pretty town and we found our hotel in a quiet back street. It was set back behind gates with its own parking. There was a lovely terrace with chairs and tables and an abundance of flowers. The owner, who spoke excellent English, showed us to our rooms in an annexe a short distance from the main hotel. The rooms were very clean but old-fashioned. Why do the French persist in using candlewick bedspreads? However, both rooms had spacious bathrooms and we were soon unpacking our bags and watching Sophie jump on the beds in glee!

We had an hour to spare before our appointment at the vineyard so we stopped at one of the wonderful roadside bars for lunch. It was in a quiet village and served specialities including quiche and croque monsieur. Sophie made friends with a little French girl and Dad enjoyed a glass of chilled red wine. In this area the reds (Chinon, Bourgeil and Saumur-Champigny) are often chilled slightly before serving, something we're not used to doing in Britain!

After a delicious lunch we carried on our way along a road that would become very familiar by the end of our little break. The tiny village of Chaintres is tucked away from the main road and we had several attempts at trying to find the vineyard, hampered by a couple of French drivers who insisted on driving too close to me despite my obvious GB sticker!

On the dot of 2.30pm we arrived at the Domaine de la Cune and met Jean Albert who is one of the brothers. He spoke excellent English and we waited in a cool room full of wine for another couple to arrive. Sophie had decided to have a nap so we parked her in a quiet corner while we got down to the serious business of wine tasting. The other couple had arrived and they were very friendly and obviously loved wine as much as we did. We tasted "our" wine, the 1997 3Jean which was exclusive to 3D Wines, and then some more examples of the vineyard - a Saumur-Champigny red, a white wine and a sparkling Saumur, which was delicious.

It was all very relaxing and afterwards we were given a tour by Jean Albert. He showed us the vines and how he was pruning them, the actual winery with the equipment and the fascinating cellar which was built 300 years ago and still holds large quantities of wine.

All too soon our visit was over so we loaded up the car with our cases of wine and departed, meandering around the picturesque vineyards before heading back to Chinon and an afternoon stroll. We wanted to find a good restaurant for the evening and walked around the lovely streets of the bustling little town. There were several places to choose from but the menus looked a little daunting for our three year old so we headed back to the Hotel Diderot to ask if they could recommend a suitable restaurant to eat. The owner's charming sister told us to try the Auberge Rouge where she said the menu was informal and it was a good place for children to eat.

After a quick bath we strolled to the restaurant but forgot the pushchair. A moany Sophie made sure we suffered as she wanted to be carried all the way there! The auberge was all we had hoped it would be and we were soon settled into a tiny alcove with a traditional menu offering specialities of the area, including eels, much to Dad's delight! We chose two specialities for starters which included foie gras, Vouvray pork ribs, pate and smoked ham. Four main courses we all had something different - I chose steak, Mum opted for lamb chops while Dad tried the duck. Sophie was delighted with her ham and fried potatoes. Our main courses came complete with goat's cheese and fruit on a wicker tray. We drank a bottle of red Chinon with the meal which was delicious.

On the way back to the hotel we took it in turns to carry a sleepy Sophie. It was still quite light and the shuttered houses reminded me of Pollensa in Mallorca. We were all looking forward to a good night's sleep as we were shattered by our long day!


Part 2 will follow shortly.

Five Go Mad in Mallorca (Unfinished)

Monday 17 June 1996

Departure Day

The day had started badly when the arranged lift for my parents failed to arrive. Sitting in the hot sun, our party of three decided to abandon them to their fate, on the pretence of securing valuable plane seats and took off in a cloud of gravel, bound for Birmingham airport.

Fred met Freddy and did an excellent job of shading the youngest member of our party in the back seat, and we all arrived at the airport without mishap. Having gleaned the check-in desk number from a helpful Sunworld representative, we took up residence next to a crowd of Danish football supporters who were homeward-bound from the Euro 96 festival. We were soon joined by my parents, and my Dad revealed that he'd sent Graham on a wild goose chase to Wellingborough...

At the crucial moment of checking in, Mum and I were feeding baby Sophie and had to be brought back, Sophie dangling from a bottle (I muttered that it was a good job I wasn't breastfeeding...). We were forced to rearrange all of the baby paraphernalia we had with us to appease the check-in staff.

After this nasty business and successfully securing the bulkhead seats with a sky cot, we repaired to the pub. Well, the men did, we women carried on feeding and burping.

Thoughts turned to food after the beer, and the four of us, plus a sleeping fifth, stuffed sandwiches and pizza, washed down with coffee and read the newspapers. Mum and I liberated ourselves and shopped until we dropped before hitting the departure lounge and the Duty-Free shops.

Once inside the confines of the departure lounge, surrounded by bottles of whisky, Sophie fed once again and marvelled at all the new sights and sounds, arms and legs waving about in her excitement. However, once on the plane, it all became a bit too much, and, cradled in Keith's arms, she slept throughout the entire take-off, not paying the slightest bit of attention to the safety announcement.

The sky cot was useful for a few seconds until she woke up and demanded to see everything that was going on, highly amused at the sight of us all trying to eat our in-flight meals without spilling them everywhere. Once we had eaten our lunch, it was time for hers, but the stewardess, who was too busy selling duty-free, was a little late in warming up the bottle, and the rest of the plane heard about it...

The landing was a big bore for baby Sophie, despite the turbulence and thick cloud, but an airport arrivals hall is a wonderful place for displaying a poohy nappy! What a greeting for Mallorca!

The Mediterranean island welcomed us with warm weather and sunshine, and we had plenty of time to admire the surrounding building sites while waiting for our rental car to be sorted out. We waited, and waited... and waited! Finally, the problem was sorted, and we asked if we wanted "Wan ker?" We sincerely hoped we hadn't upset them, but as it turned out, we hadn't, and they provided a huge stretch limousine to get us to the car hire premises. Baby Sophie recognised this as her true vocation in life and tried to wave to passers-by. It was a shame the windows were backed out...

Another problem surfaced at the car hire premises as they evidently thought we were a travelling troupe of contortionists... A two-door Vauxhall Corsa was offered to us, but we politely told them we didn't think that was a good idea, so they offered us a four-door Corsa instead... This time, my Mum told them what they could do with it, and faced with her fury, we were finally given a Vauxhall Astra estate, with air-conditioning. It pays to complain, you know.

The journey to the villa was, sadly, uneventful. After all the excitement, we thought we would at least get lost, but apart from the occasional whimper of a baby that was regularly starved, we enjoyed the beautiful scenery en route to Puerto Pollensa.

Our landmark was a tall Cypress tree, which my parents recognised from an earlier jaunt to the resort, the villa situated up a narrow track in the middle of arable farmland. Driving through the gates, we immediately liked what we saw: an earthy brown villa with a huge courtyard, shuttered windows and gorgeous gardens leading to a pool and barbecue area.

The pool looked very inviting, but there was too much exploring to be done, and each new discovery brought gasps of delight from the whole party. The pool was surrounded by lemon and apple trees, and shaded lawns, and the barbecue area had two sinks, work surfaces and a huge bathroom. Flowers and exotic plants grew abundantly, with two palm trees in the courtyard overlooking the farmland beyond.

Inside, the villa was cool and dark, with a small sitting room, a lounge area with a large table and chairs, and a kitchen with an open fireplace. The first bedroom led off the landing, and my parents took this room.  Further up the stairs were three more bedrooms, completely taken over by us. The view from the shower room was beautiful, and more than made up for the lack of space.

After a frenzy of unpacking, we drove to Puerto Pollensa for much-needed sustenance - lots of Sangria for the ladies (except Sophie) and beer for the men. Everyone agreed that the villa was perfect, and the setting was wonderful.

Puerto Pollensa was very much alive, with young families wandering slowly along the promenade, and even the youngest children having the time of their lives with their families. The front was lined with bars and restaurants, and somewhere Spanish music played softly on the breeze. Uniformed waiters hurried to get orders, and everyone looked healthy, relaxed and tanned. 

Dinner was eaten at a pizzeria next door to the bar, and afterwards, we drove back to the villa to collapse exhausted on our beds.

Relaxing by the pool and eating!

After breakfast the next day, the whole party descended on the local supermarket and drained it of its beer and wine. These were the most important purchases, closely followed by foodstuffs. The rest of the day was spent around the pool, sleeping, reading and enjoying the local food. Various aperitifs were drunk throughout the day to keep the fluid levels up.

The days of the first week followed a similar pattern, with the evenings spent in Puerto Pollensa. The best restaurant in the town was El Carno, a Swiss-run establishment that didn't offer small portions. The red cabbage was exquisite, and the steaks tender and delicious, with the salad starter a firm favourite. The staff were very friendly, and the chef remembered Dad from a previous holiday. He looked after us very well!

We ate out at another restaurant in Puerto Pollensa, which was on the front and nicknamed "Windy Corner" by us. Our waiter had studied at the school of Basil Fawlty, for he was completely forgetful, and Keith had to ask him four times for a beer! The food here was disappointing, but it was one of the most expensive meals of the holiday. We sat in a Force 10 gale, and this time Sophie was awake while we ate, but was happy and smiling. One poor couple had to take turns eating, as their crying baby refused to go to sleep. Sophie was mesmerised by the lights swinging in the wind and the leaves of a tree above us, and enjoyed everything that was going on.

A trip to Soller

On the first Thursday of the holiday, we took the car over the mountains to the fishing village of Soller, stopping at a monastery on the way. There were crowds of tourists at the monastery, with several huge tour buses turning up and disgorging Spaniards, Germans and Brits. We wandered about in the heat and enjoyed a beer in the café while discussing the various types of mosquito killers available. Apart from baby Sophie, we had all been afflicted with bites, and Sophie escaped by being covered in repellent and having a net covering her pushchair at night to keep the little buggers at bay.

The road to Soller was beautiful, with twists and turns through tree-covered mountains. We were glad of the air conditioning in the car as the outside temperature was in the 90s. 

After lunch, we ambled into town and waited for the little train to take us back to the car. The train goes all the way to Palma, winding its way through the high mountains, and it must be a spectacular journey. The trip back to the car didn't take long, but it was lovely to see the bay again, and Sophie enjoyed sitting on Mum's lap and being admired by several Spanish grandmothers. Everywhere she went, she was cooed over and praised. We hope it doesn't go to her head!

We took the scenic route back to Puerto Pollensa, a mountainous road that included a long section of hairpin bends. A driver behind us, who was obviously local, overtook us on a bend and then signalled for the driver behind him to do the same!

Fun in the pool!

A trip to nearby Cala San Vicente one afternoon offered us the chance to buy two huge rings, which we used to race against each other in the pool. Keith and I sat in the hole in the middle with our legs dangling over the edge, and we used our arms to propel ourselves along. This was done with the accompaniment of much yelling and screaming, which set off all the neighbourhood dogs.

My Mum was too nervous about deep water to venture away from the shallow end until my Dad dragged her out to the middle. The screaming this time could have been heard in Palma! The rubber rings were also great for lazing about in the pool, wearing a big hat and enjoying a cool drink; it was heaven.

England v Spain

On the first Saturday, the men decided to watch England play Spain in the Euros at a bar in Cala San Vicente. The ladies opted for a lazy afternoon around the pool, which was much more sensible in the heat. Much sleeping, eating and drinking took place in the villa in the peace of the afternoon. It was very quiet with only the occasional overhead aircraft breaking the silence. Even the cockerels were asleep.

The men returned, jubilant, after the English defeated the Spaniards on a penalty shoot-out. The atmosphere in the bar had been good-natured, though, with the Spanish gracious in their defeat.

Barbecue!

The first barbecue of the holiday was a feast of chicken and kebabs. The chicken was marinated in a delectable sauce and then grilled over the coals. The ladies cooked potatoes and made a salad while the men did the hot stuff. Cava was drunk in great quantities, and Mum and Dad danced on the terrace to Dire Straits. Baby Sophie, as usual, slept through the whole evening, protected by her mosquito net, and missed all the fun.

The villa looked particularly beautiful at night, with small lamps twinkling along the paths and on the buildings. Underwater lights in the pool turned the water a translucent blue, and the cicadas almost drowned out the music on the CD player with their buzzing. We declared the villa the best restaurant on the island!

A change in the weather...

Sadly, the first Sunday of the holiday dawned cloudy and chilly, and Mum and Dad ventured into the old town of Pollenca with Sophie to go to the weekly market. Keith and I walked to the nearby supermarket, which was crowded with "Hooray Henrys" buying food for their barbecues. On the way back to the villa, we stopped at a nearby restaurant, which we christened "The Yellow Canary" (actually Ca'n Pacienci), to look at the menu, which was very interesting, despite being a tad expensive.

Mum and Dad returned from Pollenca with equally good reports of the restaurants there, which we decided to try.

Because the weather had not improved, we drove to Cap de Formentor, the most northerly point of the island. It was reached by a tortuous, winding road with steep drops, and definitely wasn't for the fainthearted! It seemed that most of the population of northern Mallorca had the same idea, as a long crocodile of cars followed each other along the narrow highway, with a tiny, packed car park at the end. The views weren't as spectacular as they could have been because of the cloudy skies, and the sheer popularity of the area diminished our enjoyment, so we soon left, winding our way back down to the safer roads around Puerto Pollensa.

Exploring the island

The weather was determined to be bad for the next couple of days so we explored the island and drove through Alcudia, the next resort along from PP, and on down to Cala Milor on the east coast. Elsewhere, people opted for long walks to pass the time, the pleasures of the beach and swimming temporarily denied to them.

As we journeyed further south, the weather improved, and each degree of warmth was greeted with enthusiasm. The scenery continued to be beautiful with small, sleepy villages dozing in the midday sun. This part of Mallorca still seemed to be safe from the disagreeable ravages of tourism, and we decided to have lunch in Cales de Mallorca, where Mum and Dad had stayed five years previously. Although now warm and sunny, it was very windy, and from our restaurant table, we could see the sea whipped up into a frenzy of white foam. We all agreed that Puerto Pollensa (PP) was probably the most scenic of the resorts we had visited, and decided to head back in the hope of some late sunbathing around the pool.

A near miss!

A particularly bad storm affected Keith and me on the Tuesday of the second week when we decided to venture out for a walk (actually, nosing about outside villas and peering into gardens would have been a more apt description of our activities!). We had almost reached the top of the escarpment that overlooked the area when the rain began to fall, and thunder boomed. Sheltering under a tree didn't help much, as we were both starting to feel cold, and we were wet already. I hoped that the much-searched-for villa of Michael Douglas was nearby so that he could come along and offer us a respite from the storm, but it was not to be. Nobody came to the rescue of the two bedraggled figures, so we decided to make a run for it in the torrential rain, and I nearly met my maker when a bolt of lightning hit a fence just behind me... Keith didn't tell me this until we reached the safety of the villa, and it certainly added excitement to our walk! From now on, I think I'll stick to watching them from inside!

The five of us explored Pollenca later in the day when the rain had cleared, and we were pleasantly surprised by what we found. Pollenca is an old Roman town, with a maze of winding streets and tall buildings with shuttered windows, leading onto a beautiful square overlooked by an imposing monastery on a hill. A huge church stands at one end of the square with leafy trees providing much-needed shade. It seems to be a meeting place for the town's inhabitants. A couple of bars provide the perfect opportunity to sip a cold beer and watch the local life.

The surrounding streets had a couple of nice restaurants, one of which, Ca'n Costa, was our venue of choice for the evening's meal. Mum and I went inside to book a table, but there wasn't a soul about. The interior was beautiful with large paintings hanging on the walls, and several deep sofas to relax on while having a pre-dinner drink or end-of-meal coffee. 

The restaurant reminded me of a French auberge, and indeed the owners turned out to be from France. We only hoped they were as keen on babies as the Spanish were!

Later that evening, before drinks in the square in Pollenca, we booked our table, and Sophie was more than welcome. The evening was delightful, the skies had cleared, and the late sun cast a soft glow on the surrounding buildings. Tourists mingled with locals, enjoying the weather, and there was a wonderful atmosphere... or was it the Campari?

Dinner was all we had hoped it would be, and Sophie slept through the whole evening, not uttering a sound. The food was delicious and included warm goat's cheese salad, terrine of duck, a whole baby chicken, rack of lamb and yet more duck, a speciality of the area, it seemed. The service was friendly, and everyone cooed over our sleeping Sophie. The restaurant was obviously popular, and although we heard a few "Hooray Henry" voices, they didn't spoil our enjoyment of the evening. We took our coffees and liqueurs on the squashy sofas, and I wished we could stay in Mallorca forever.

Walking back through the deserted town at the end of the evening was like passing through a different town. The narrow, winding streets were dark and full of shadows, and no light shone through the shuttered windows. I was glad we were in Mallorca and not a town in England...

The "Yellow Canary"

The next evening, we tried the "Yellow Canary", which was run by a friendly Englishman. We booked a table and made sure it was acceptable to bring a baby. The restaurant was the prettiest we'd been to; a whitewashed building covered in a gorgeous mauve flower with tables and chairs outside on the verandah, as well as inside. We were seated outside, and Sophie slept through the whole evening again and was much admired by everyone. Of course, that goes without saying!

Our meal was delicious, and this time we enjoyed assorted hors d'oeuvres, scampi, fillet of beef and the speciality of the house, duck. The food was excellent, and the service was friendly and efficient. Mum and I became a bit tipsy, and she insisted on taking me to the loo with her even though I didn't want to go! There was only one toilet, so I had to stand outside like a spare pork chop at a Jewish wedding with everyone wondering what I was doing. Also, because I was tipsy, I had a silly grin on my face...

Our meal at the restaurant was finished off with desserts, cheese and coffee, and everyone agreed it was expensive but worth the money. Back at the villa, Keith and I rounded off our evening with a nude dip in the pool. We turned all the lights off, except for those in the pool and enjoyed our swim with hundreds of insects attracted to the lights. It was very beautiful, and I wished I could have taken a photograph of the luminescent blue water, the dark, inky sky overhead sparkling with stars, and the occasional lights of an arriving plane. The swim certainly made us feel cooler in the hot evening air, and we slept better that night.

England v Germany

The weather improved again on the second Thursday, so we made up for lost time by doing some serious sunbathing. The evening before, we had eaten in Cala San Vicente again as England was playing Germany in the semi-final of the Euros. We ate at a pizzeria, which was disappointing, and the men went off to watch the football while Mum and I took Sophie for a walk.

We walked around a small headland and into another bay - Cala Molins - which was very pretty. There was a large hotel there and several villas nestling into the hills opposite. It seemed as if it was mostly women walking about, as obviously, all the men were watching the football! The evening was clear and sunny, and the views over to the rocky headland were gorgeous. From this small bay, it's possible to walk to Puerto Pollenca, and it looked like an interesting trail to follow, but we turned back and returned to the bar to watch the football match.

When we arrived back at the bar, the score was 1-1, and the tension was mounting. I'm glad to say that the atmosphere was lighthearted with both German and English supporters sitting side by side. The game went to extra time, followed by a penalty shoot-out, with Germany eventually winning.

Unfortunately, for some reason, I never finished this diary of our first holiday to Mallorca with Sophie. I do know that it was a lovely holiday and we have many photos and videos to look back on. This was the start of our love affair with the island, which continues to this day!

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

Wednesday April 22nd, 1987

Unfortunately, it rained all day, which kept us confined to our tents. I joined Matthew and Corrie for breakfast, and we spent a dismal morning listening to music, chatting or reading. The porters lounged about in the cook tent or, when it stopped raining, played a Nepalese version of boules.

After a dismal lunch, we passed a dreary afternoon moaning about the weather, how bored we were and what we'd have to eat if we were back in the UK! The lentil curries were starting to wear thin!

It wasn't until the evening that things began to liven up. The clouds melted away, and in the distance we could see the distinctive peak of Machhapuchhare. We were also able to see the Annapurna massif shining in the evening sunlight.

After dinner, we all mucked about and behaved like fools. I suppose the boredom of the day was getting to us! In the village, a huge quarrel had broken out with men shouting and women screaming. We hadn't a clue as to what had happened to cause the commotion! It went on for most of the evening, with even physical assaults at one point.

Ninja then produced a lump of wood, which he managed to fashion into a penis... and there I was thinking he was an innocent! Matthew, making things even worse, took out one of his condoms and fitted it over the wood, provoking howls of laughter from all the porters! Hmmm!

After this, several of the porters disappeared to the village to buy rum and to try to find out what had caused all the earlier commotion. It was pitch black by now, so we placed the lamp by the fire and sat around chatting. The light of the lamp attracted huge moths and flies, which fluttered around us.

In the distance, between the two mountains by the river, I could see flashes of lightning that lit up the whole sky. It was a little unnerving sitting by the fire, as the porters had disappeared to the village and we could hear strange rustlings in the bushes, making my imagination go into overdrive!

The porters returned and made us hot coffee with rum. At around 9:00pm (late for us), I went to sit in Matthew and Corrie's tent to chat a little while longer. I then said goodnight and tried to get back into my own tent, but the little devils had turned the top cover around, so the zip was at the back, and I was unable to get in!

I stormed over to the mess tent, where all the porters were huddled up pretending to be asleep! I finally managed to drag Ninja and Lakba out and shouted at them until they put the tent cover on the right way. It was hilarious and typical of their childish sense of humour!

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

 Tuesday April 21st, 1987

There were no more climbs for us now, only level walking lay ahead. However, after the steep descent of yesterday, we were all aching!

The walk along the valley was certainly beautiful, and we passed through several villages following an ancient path that wound gently through the flat fields of the Mardi Khola valley. The green mountains on either side were covered in trees, broken occasionally by a solitary house or barn. We followed the course of the river throughout the walk.

We crossed the river several times, and the bridges never became safer! Huge gaps in the planks allowed us glimpses of the white water below, with the sides of the bridges no more than twisted pieces of wire. I clung onto the nearest available male who seemed to take delight in my fear!

Lunch was eaten in the middle of a valley without a single tree for shade. It was extremely hot, and we all flopped about drinking tea and orange squash. Matthew felt ill again, and I was relieved that it wasn't me.

After lunch, we continued along a hot, dusty path through rice fields. The river became wider, and we reached a kind of pebbly beach where we were able to wash our hair and play about in the cool water. Dawa and I had a play-fight, and I chased after him, but the heat sapped all my energy, so we all relaxed by reclining on the side of the river and throwing pebbles into the water.

After this welcome rest, we carried on along the river path and occasionally met older, grey-haired men who carried black umbrellas over their heads to keep off the glare of the sun. They looked slightly eccentric, as I would normally associate black umbrellas with city folk!

At last, we arrived at a village near where we would camp this evening. The village was simply a cluster of small, thatched houses grouped around the end of a particularly nasty rope-bridge. Dawa told us to go into one of the houses, and we sat in the gloom drinking dusty bottles of Coca-Cola. The house consisted of one room containing three beds and a cooking stove. A big, wooden table stood in the middle of the room, and a woman squatted on the floor cooking what appeared to be onion rings. There were no windows, only the front doors, and an open doorway at the back. Flies buzzed around us constantly.

When we'd finished our drinks, we went back out into the bright sunshine and made our way across the bridge to the campsite at the opposite side of the river. Ninja and the cook porters had already arrived and were busy making tea. Corrie, Matthew and I immediately made for the river and cooled off again. It was bliss to feel the water wash over us!

We spent the rest of the afternoon relaxing and washing our clothes. I made a vain attempt to tidy up my kit bag, which was a complete mess. After dinner, we relaxed around the campfire, drinking rum and coffee. Utter darkness surrounded us, and there wasn't even a light to be seen in the nearby village.

During the night, we experienced a violent thunderstorm that lasted for ages. Through the tent material, I could make out the flashes of lightning, and the thunderclaps that followed were the loudest I'd ever heard. For the first time in my life, I felt genuinely frightened by the force of nature!

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

Monday April 20th, 1987

I awoke after a very cold and almost sleepless night, which I blamed on the altitude of 12000 feet. Over breakfast, I gazed at the beautifully clear peak of Macchapucchare and tried to imprint the sight of it onto my brain. Sadly, we packed everything away and onto the porters' backs and started the long, hot descent to the Mardi Khola Valley, 8000 feet below.

The sun shone down on us as we slipped and stumbled downwards. My rucksack kept over-balancing, and my thick walking boots constantly caught in tree roots. Before long, we complained of aching calves and headaches from the blazing heat.

Behind us, the vast shape of Macchapucchare was hidden from view, and we could only look forward and downward to where we could see the distant Mardi River. We talked of bathing in the cold, clear water which runs straight from the snow waters high up on Macchapucchare.

As we descended lower, I happened to look back, and I could see the distinct fish-tail shining in the sunlight. The mountain stands at the head of the Mardi Khola Valley and seems to be an impregnable barrier of rock and snow.

On our right side, we could see green lower slopes, covered with terraced paddy fields. Small houses clung to the sides, and as we neared the valley floor, women and children waved to us from the fields.

We stopped several times in the heat, plastering each other with sunscreen and drinking the still-warm water that had been boiled at breakfast. The river below sparkled at us, and we walked faster and faster, imagining how good it would feel to be cool and clean.

We came to the village of Siding after about four hours of continuous descent. My legs felt wobbly, and I wondered whether they'd actually be able to carry me to the enticing river!

We passed through the heart of the village along a series of steps that presumably made up the main village street. It was clear that this village was comparatively wealthy, as the houses were well-built and all had thatched roofs. They were painted white and were covered in decorations. All were two-storey with verandahs on which children played. Bunches of grass covered the roofs and verandah ceilings and had been left there to dry out. Nearly every house had a thatched hut that contained at least one well-fed cow, and chickens wandered about, scratching for grain.

This village was a lot cleaner and well-kept than other villages we had walked through on the outskirts of Pokhara. We crossed the river on little planks of wood, and I couldn't resist dipping my hands into the water and wetting my burnt arms.

We arrived at the lunch spot to find Ninja and Monay cooking. I particularly remember this lunch as it was disgusting, unfortunately! Before we ate lunch, we took our trousers off and waded in the crystal clear water of the Mardi River. I caused a sensation among the porters, and Dawa insisted on taking a photograph of me with Matthew's camera.

Afterwards, we ate rock-hard salami and equally hard baked beans. I took my plate, ate a few baked beans and gave it back. By now, the porters had begun to look at me with some concern as I'd eaten less and less as the days wore on. I only ate the fruit that was served for dessert, but I wasn't bothered by anything else. 

We were also able to do some washing in the river, and I borrowed Corrie's shampoo to wash my hair. What bliss it was to have clean hair again, and I left it to dry in the breeze.

Corrie 

 We stayed by the river for about two hours, and I filled my water bottle, prepared to carry on walking for miles with it. It made me realise how important water is and how much we miss it when it's not readily available.

We trudged along the banks of the river and occasionally crossed over some horrifying wooden rope bridges. I was terrified as they swayed from side to side, and I clung onto Lakba! Dawa thought it was hilarious to make them swing even more, with me screaming at him to stop. It made him do it all the more!

Halfway along the route to the campsite, Monay and Matthew had a disagreement. I'd taken the top off my water bottle, and Monay came up and threw some water over Matthew. He went mad and chased after Monay, and they had a brief struggle, but Matthew, being taller, managed to get him to the ground and then dragged him along.

We stood watching and laughing, but Monay didn't find it quite so funny. He took a stick and swiped it at Matthew, who jumped out of the way just in time. Monay looked extremely angry, and Matthew put out his hand to shake as friends, but the Nepali made a rude gesture and stomped off. Oh dear! Matthew continued to try to make amends and was upset about the disagreement. Monay kept his distance and walked off alone along the path.

Dawa explained that it was male pride, and I spoke to Matthew, urging him to forget about the whole silly episode. However, as we walked along the track, he kept saying how bad he felt.

This evening's campsite was close by and on the outskirts of a village. As we walked through, crowds of children appeared from nowhere and followed us, shouting at us in English and begging for sweets and pens.

By now, we were hot and tired, and the incident between Monay and Matthew had cast a mood of gloom over the whole party. The children were irritating nuisances, and I begged Dawa to make them go away.

We camped on a series of terraced fields beyond the village. The three of us sat and stared at the children, who in turn, stood and stared at us as if they'd never seen foreigners before. Matthew seemed very worried and kept agonising over the argument with Monay. I told him again to stop worrying, as the Nepalese porter would come around sooner or later.

Lakba pitched the tents, and the campfires lit. These activities caused a lot of excitement among the children, and they began to annoy us even more. Lakba managed to get rid of them in the end, but they were promptly replaced by two cows who wandered amongst the tents, nibbling at the opening flaps!

I sat in my tent to read and get five minutes' peace from the rabble that had formed outside again.

We ate dinner outside, gazing at the view of the valley. Ninja made delicious custard, which was the only thing I ate. Both Corrie and Matthew tried to make me eat more, but I was heartily fed up with rice and curried vegetables!

After eating, we sat around the fire, drinking rum and coffee, and Matthew went back to the tent, where I joined him for a chat. We found something funny and were giggling helplessly when Corrie returned. The rum must have been very strong!

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.