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.

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.